Consequence
by Yutaan
Summary: Aaaaaand we're into Part Two. Huzzah! Cults n' black magic n' time travel, oh my. ABANDONED/PERMANENT HIATUS.
1. Prologue: Admonition

A/N: Hello, Yutaan here, back from the dead with an old-new fic. This one was started several years ago, dropped for about a year, and now I've picked it up again and decided it's high time I posted it. This is my first and only attept at a Yu-Gi-Oh fic, so please don't flame me. Every time you flame a fic, a penguin is eaten by a seal.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. I mean, can you imagine how badly I'd screw it up if I created it?

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Prologue: Admonition

The young man could hear a constant drumming in his head, in his throat and chest. His heart was speeding, pumping energy through his body as he ran. He could feel sharp, hot blasts from behind him; hear calling and taunting, and a few panicked cries. He ignored them all.

He felt sand melting at his heels, turning to glass. His chest ached, and the old cuts burned on his back. The harsh air of the desert, searing with cold, chafed his throat, but he drew it gladly, knowing that as long as it scraped at his mouth and lungs, he was still alive for another moment.

Pain. He was used to pain, but the searing slash thrown across his side startled him, and he fell, tucking his head under and taking the blow of hard-packed sand below his shoulder, like he had been taught. He rolled nimbly and was up again in another instant, racing as fast as he could on legs shaky from hidden fear and strain.

The river was ahead, its dark, cold depths glowing silver-surfaced in the moonlight. He drew air and dived, numbing water wrapping around his body. He swam underwater for as long as his breath allowed, knowing that he was safer there, and as soon as he rose his pursuers would be able to target him. When need for air finally drove him upward, he was a quarter way across the great river, and had been tugged several lengths downstream.

Shouts broke out, and he pushed himself harder, jaw set, flashing eyes trained on the opposite shore. They knew where he was going, knew it quite well. It was simply a matter of whether they could catch him before he reached his destination.

Water bubbling, hissing. The incantations of the hunters hummed through the night air. A sudden, deep roar rose from the river, and a sharp explosion of water swirled past his feet. A dark shape turned and sped head-on toward him, teeth and eyes gleaming in the moonlight, fins pumping at the frigid liquid.

A mirthless grin passed over the young man's face. He knew their tricks, their games. He had played them for too long now, and had absorbed the rules, laws of their little pastimes. He could play in this contest just as well as the rest of them.

Warmth gathered in his palm, just as he had practiced, and he swiped the pale hair from his eyes, rising halfway from the water, exposing vulnerable chest, throat, stomach to the water-hunter. It screeched, anticipating sacrifice, and barreled forward.

He drew his arm back, hand blazing with fiery heat now, and then swung, releasing the energy in a low arc, straight toward the monster's forehead.

It took the space of a heartbeat to react, and then suddenly the great predatory animal was howling, its red gills opened wide and its toothy mouth pulled into a shrill scream. It thrashed in the water, churning waves high, its spiked tail flashing in and out as though seeking its tormentor.

The smile remained, even as the weapons on the tail buried themselves in his forearm. The game's round was his. As the great fish's corpse sank beneath the water and cries of shock and fury sounded from the shore behind, he began to swim again. His arms pumped smoothly at the water and the long hair trailed, legs striking into the wake again and again, piercing the thin red cloud streaming from his side and arm.

The opposite shore. He reached for the reeds sprouting from its sandy banks and pulled himself upward, the river's droplets rolling from his body and dotting the ground. Sand stuck to his ankles and calves as he continued, this time at a walk, toward the final destination. There would be no more chase. The hunters would return to their home and prepare, while he - the prey - escaped to his own place and do what must be done.

Now that the hunt was over, a change came over him. His steps were fast but heavy, and his shoulders hunched. He was not eager to reach this goal, but it was his duty. It was a matter of self-respect and obligation to other potential quarry.

The sky was lightening, preparing itself for day, when he finally trudged into the city. Stone buildings rose up on all sides, causing a sensation of being trapped to well up almost unnoticed within him. It was an acquired feeling.

There. She stood as she always did before sunrise, water jar balanced on one hip, basket in hand. Her dress slipped down to reveal her shoulders, smooth and of carved perfection that one rarely saw in a woman so young. She was kneeling beside her small stone house, taking the basket into her hand, preparing for her daily journey to the river.

She heard him, and turned, confusion creasing her face. Upon seeing him, her mouth opened into a circle and both basket and clay jar dropped to the sand with a dull _thump_. She took in the bloodied arm and side, the water still dripping from the hair and clothing, the eyes blazing and dark, a strange expression on his face. "What -?"

He didn't let her continue. "They're coming," he said. His voice was forcedly flat, grinding along at his throat and tongue before finally escaping through clenched teeth.

"What? They - they can't be - when?"

"They'll be here by dawn. Maybe a little later."

"You're sure?"

He nodded, eyes on hers but not really sharing the view with them. "Yes."

"I - I - oh - but the armies aren't ready!"

Now his voice was hard, frightening monotone gone. "Look, this isn't a choosing matter. _They're_ ready, they're more ready than our armies will ever be. It's either call their challenge or let ourselves be stormed."

"…All right." Her voice had returned to its usual smooth steadiness. "I'll go and tell the pharaoh. He'll call the men out." She turned and began running, feet still bare, leaping over stones and discarded jars.

He still stood there, chest moving in and out, not from the chase. He turned slightly so that he faced the direction his home was in, where his little brother was sleeping, unaware of what had happened during the night. The older brother was grateful for that; if the younger one had seen any part of what had occurred, it would require explaining, and he couldn't bring himself to lie to his little brother, not if he had seen. And explaining would mean the truth. The truth was too dangerous. For them both.

The sun taunted the city, flickering, and finally lifted itself above the horizon, stretching its tongues of light over the sands and river. Somewhere, far into the Red Lands, cloaks rustled, incantations were muttered. And here in the city - there was only sleep. A final sleep for some. Men would die. Women and children would die.

And he was partly to blame.

He turned toward Ra, the sun-god, as he never did, and he bowed and prayed for forgiveness.

It had begun.

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So, that is the prologue. I realize it didn't make much sense, so I'll post the first chapter as soon as possible, ne? Thank you for reading! Please review!

A note: this fic will be long. Very, very long. It will also be confusing, and until the end, there will be plot arcs and secrets which will be impossible to understand. Just be assured that I do know where I'm going, and I won't leave you in the dark when the story ends. So please, be patient with me and try to accept the story as it goes along. All will be revealed.


	2. Chapter 1: Inauguration

A/N: Okay, I lied, here's the first chapter already. ; Thank you to anyone who read it, and please review! This chapter is where the plot starts to get rolling. And no, the prologue won't be explained yet... but I love you all, so I'll tell you all that the guy was... Yami Bakura.

About names: I live in the US. When I first started reading fics, I was always surprised that hikari Bakura is referred to as "Ryou". He's called "Bakura" in the anime over here, and so I continue to call him that. ;;; I'm sorry if that confuses anyone... Although it's not the most confusing thing... Later on, I'll refer to yami Bakura as "Ryou". Gomen ne! When I was starting this fic, I needed a name for him, so I just chose hikari Baku-chan's surname. I'm sorry for any misunderstandings... If there's too much confusion, I'll switch the names in later chapters. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do I have to say this for every chapter? 0.o

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Book One: Change

Chapter One: Inauguration

Malaise bent her head forward, closing her eyes and giving a silent moan to the gods. She placed one hand over her eyes, grown wrinkled and veined with weariness, of seeing too many things that one should not see, never see. The area around her rocked; her once-strong body reeled with it, taking the punishment as she had been doing for so long now.

"Excuse me."

Malaise looked up. Her eyes wandered for a moment, then came to rest on the boy who had spoken. Focusing on his face, she gave a very small smile to herself, one of recognition but no joy. Of course he was here.

The boy seemed unsure whether to ask of her health or of something for himself, but Malaise straightened her back, giving off a hint of the woman she used to be, and looked the small boy straight in the eye. "Yes, child? What is it?"

Given this display of physical well-being, the boy shifted his bag to the other shoulder and asked politely, "Is this seat taken?" He pointed to the empty space on the plastic seat next to her as the city bus lurched, and he with it.

"No, it would be my pleasure," Malaise replied, after searching her subconscious mind for a short moment. She smiled at him, a pretend smile, but one that looked so convincing to the onlooker that he grinned and bounced down happily, sliding the school bag off his back with a loud, contented sigh.

Malaise took in the violet eyes, small stature, and most especially, the large gold talisman he wore around his neck. Then she refocused her eyes on the back of the driver's head.

The door opened again. Another boy climbed on, facing away from Malaise and the small boy, sitting in the back. Malaise's heart suddenly leapt into her throat and throbbed there painfully; she did not want that boy to turn around. Please, the gods couldn't let him be -…

The little one next to her sprang up. He waved and called the other boy's name as he finished paying the driver, causing Malaise to clasp her trembling hands together quickly, so hard that her fingernails bit into the soft flesh of her hand and drew small droplets of blood.

"Bakura!"

The one in front turned. Malaise saw long, white hair, fair skin, the gold charm around his neck - but the eyes were the most painful to see: they were dark and kind, but the familiar essence was gone. They were innocent and hurt, and Malaise could sense the separate, unsure spirit, just as she could with the other boy, she could feel it... The gods must have been laughing at her as she shivered. Why did this hurt her so much…?

"Hi!" Bakura waved back, smiling, and threaded his way through bulky purses, schoolbags, people, unbalanced by the shifting of the bus, and finally reached them. "'Lo Yugi."

"Wanna sit?" Yugi glanced at Malaise. "Is that all right, ma'am?"

"Of course," Malaise said lukewarmly. "If there is not enough space, I will move if you would like."

"Thank you, there's more than enough room," Bakura replied, and slid into the end of the seat, up against the window.

The boys began to speak, chatting about school, and the game - _that game_. "And Joey beat me hands down, but I won against Tea…."

"Tea tries hard. That's the important thing."

"Hah! Yes, and I tried against Joey too…."

Malaise winced as the gods enlightened her, telling her of what had to be done. She sighed inwardly, but respectfully agreed to obey.

It was almost half an hour before Bakura suddenly glanced up. He blinked in surprise. "Oh - sorry, Yugi, I missed my stop!" He gathered his bag in one hand and tugged on the bus's cord with the other, causing the vehicle to grate to a shaking halt. "See you." he began to shove through the various people again.

"Bye." Yugi leaned to the side and rested his temple against the window, fingers rubbing in a circular motion over his gold necklace. The Eye of Horus gleamed at Malaise, stroked to a polished golden glow.

Malaise listened carefully to the gods' instructions, then let her eyes slide over to Yugi, staring unblinkingly at him. She continued to look at him as the bus made its rounds around the city, letting people on and off, rumbling past schools, stores, offices. It was almost an hour before Yugi recognized the streets near his grandfather's shop.

Malaise was almost boring holes into the boy's head, her gaze was so intense, so focused upon the single eye she could see, not looking at her. But finally, as the bus turned onto the shop's street, and Yugi reached for his bag, he happened to glance at her.

She had been staring at him for a long while, he knew, but it was usually better to leave people like that alone. He knew enough to go into a busy store or call home if a person got off with him and followed him, or else he could just ask his companion to help him - the friend he wore around his neck. He wasn't very worried about the woman.

But….

"Do you want something?" he asked cautiously, as he stretched high up to pull the cord, keeping an ear out for her and turning to face the window. He gave the cord a sharp tug; the bus rattled down to its faulty brakes and screeched to a stop, quivering. Not hearing an answer, he turned and began to walk up the aisle.

Malaise spoke.

"I know what it is you want, Yugi Mutou."

Instantly, the boy halted.

"You and His Majesty."

Slowly, Yugi turned. His mind tumbled through several responses, and he finally settled on "I have to go home. Sorry."

Malaise eyed him. "You are not expected home. Your grandfather knows that you duel often with your friends, and that you are late almost every day, because you could not interrupt your game with Joseph Wheeler -"

Yugi drew back slightly.

"Or Miss Tea Gardner -"

He clutched unconsciously at the chain fastening the Puzzle to his neck.

"Or R-" Malaise cocked her head, swallowing saliva. "Or Tristan Taylor."

"Wh-" Yugi licked his lips, dry. "Who are you?"

"I am called Malaise. Sit back down, little Mutou boy. We have very much to talk about."

Slowly, hesitating, Yugi returned to his former seat, only this time he kept one hand around the Puzzle, and he leaned slightly away from the woman. Malaise noticed as the bus picked up speed once again. "You do not have to alarm the pharaoh," she told him, now keeping her eyes steady on the overcoat of the weighty man in front of them. "I will not hurt you. Either of you. I only wish to have a conversation - in private."

They rode the bus in silence, waiting as people disembarked, one by one, group by group, until they were the only riders left, and the sun was sinking to the horizon. After the final person had gotten off, Malaise waited for a few minutes, then smoothly reached up and pulled at the cord. The bus stopped, rattling, and she stepped through the aisle and down the stairs, Yugi following her.

They were at the entrance to the city's park. She pushed through the gate, not holding it open for the boy. He walked after her, glancing around uneasily as they entered a stand of trees and continued, walking farther and farther into the woods. The sun no longer reached this place.

At last, he stopped. "Ma'am - is this far enough?" he called softly, faltering. To his surprise, she halted as well, and turned toward him, nodding.

"Quite." She pointed to a stone. Yugi sat, awkwardly perched on its rough gray top, and gazed none too comfortably up at the woman. Her hood shadowed her face, making her impossible to identify, and the folds of the long, dusty cloak could easily conceal a pistol or a knife….

He pressed back onto Yami's presence within his Millennium Item, and was reassured by the wave of self-assertiveness and courage. Yugi sat up straighter, feeling the young pharaoh's essence shielding him, the unwillingness to let him be hurt making him feel safe. "Okay… what do you want?"

"No, Yugi Mutou, this is not about what I want. This is about what you want."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Malaise leaned forward, her hands on her knees, back arched. Her eyes, the color of a faded, cracked sapphire, studied his own amethyst ones. "What you want," she whispered. "What you both want."

Yugi wanted her to stop looking at him in that way. It was unnerving. "I don't really want anything," he said a little too loudly, "except to go home." In his mind, he could see Yami frowning at him, reminding him to never show fear or great emotion to an opponent. And, at the moment, Malaise was an opponent.

The woman gave a very small, taut smile. "Khemet," she said, almost inaudibly.

Yami's interest was caught and held immediately, and because of this, so was Yugi's.

"What?" Yami said, speaking through Yugi's mouth, forgetting to ask for permission, but Yugi could overlook that. He knew very well why Yami was so captivated all of a sudden. "What about Khemet?"

"Ancient Egypt," Malaise said, aware that this was the pharaoh that she was talking to now. "You wish to have your home back, your subjects?"

Yugi felt Yami's pulse begin to increase, but also an edge of wariness. "Perhaps," he allowed, still using only Yugi's voice.

"You wish to have your memories, your own body back, no longer needing to share the vessel of a child?"

Yami stayed silent. So did Yugi. This was a very delicate part of their relationship, one that they treaded about carefully, never really coming to terms with the fact that Yugi, while loving Yami's presence always there, had noticed that it gave him a certain feeling of being watched, even when Yami was completely withdrawn; and for the pharaoh, it was a matter of pride, that he had to depend on a mere boy for his very existence. True, they helped and cared for each other, and neither desired to be rid of the other, but still….

"Well…." said Yugi, not answering.

"And you, child… you wish to see the King as his true self?"

"I… er…." Yugi considered. It certainly would be interesting to see Yami as pharaoh… and he couldn't deny that, at times, he had thought that it would have been much easier if Yami had his own body to go around challenging people with. And, the fact that he was the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian sometimes made him feel as though he should be _there_, instead of this city.

Yami doubted that a mortal woman could do this. "Yugi, I don't think -" he began, but the boy wasn't listening to him at the moment.

"Okay…." he told Malaise uncertainly. "So… you mean Yami'll have his body back, and he'll be pharaoh again?"

Malaise eyed him. "Technically," she said.

"Technically?" both violet-eyed youths said at the same time, one arching an eyebrow and scowling, the other blinking in innocent confusion. The result was a very odd expression.

Malaise had to explain further. But not too much information. "I will return the pharaoh to ancient Egypt, otherwise known as Khemet," she told them. "Yugi, you may go and see if the transition is to your liking. If the change does not settle well with the two of you -" she gave a nod, which served the same purpose as a shrug, " - then, the decision is not permanent."

Yugi thought the offer over. It sounded all right to him… but Yami still was unsure. "What's wrong?" he silently asked the spirit. "This seems great. You get to go home! Get your memory back! See your people again! Your family!"

"You seem very enthusiastic about it," Yami muttered, fiddling with the door of his Soul Chamber. "Anxious to get rid of me, are you?"

Yugi blinked in surprise. "Of course not!" he insisted, surprised by how unwilling the spirit was. "But this is what we've been working for, right? I mean, it wasn't fair that you had to sacrifice yourself for Egypt, right?" Yami mumbled something incomprehensible. "Right?" Yugi pressed.

"I suppose," Yami said, and pushed one strand of gold-colored hair out of his diamond-shaped eyes. He narrowed them. "But I don't trust that woman, Yugi."

"Yami, you don't trust anybody."

Yami muttered again, but it didn't sound like he was protesting. Then, he said, "If I get myself killed because of this, or someone assassinates me, or that dragon tries to eat me again, I am holding that woman personally responsible when I get to the afterlife."

"If Ammit doesn't destroy your soul."

"Ammit doesn't eat pharaohs."

"Yeah, right." Yugi opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus on Malaise's. "He says it's okay with him." He shifted slightly, causing a rough, scraping sound as thick school-uniform material chafed against stone. Somehow, it reminded him of his grandfather, waiting for him at the shop. "Um, ma'am -"

"Malaise."

"Malaise - I'm sorry, but I have to go home -"

"That is fine." Malaise straightened. "So you accept?"

"…Yeah…."

"A wise choice, Yugi Mutou - and My Lord," Malaise said, turning, dried leaves cracking and turning to brittle shards beneath her feet. "Oh, and child…"

"Yes?" Yugi said, standing quickly and brushing leaves and twigs from his school jacket.

"Bring your friends."

"Wha? Um - but - I don't even know how I'm supposed to bring Yami back to Egypt -"

"You shall. When the time is right, I will instruct you myself."

"Well… okay then… so Joey and Tea and Tristan and Bakura -"

"_No_."

"What?" The voice was Yami's, taking over as Yugi shied from the harsh tone of the enigmatic woman's voice.

"Only three. No more."

"Oh… well, Tea, Joey and Tristan, then," Yugi replied, voice rising in uncertainty at the end of the sentence.

"That is correct," Malaise said, beginning to walk deeper into the trees, shadows pooling on her body and wrapping around her, the early evening calm muting her, until there was no sight nor sound of the woman - only leaves swirling in her wake.

"Ooooookay," Yugi said, snatching up his bag. "That was very weird."

"I am not doing anything related to that woman," Yami announced. "I trust her even less than most."

"Do you want to go home, or not?"

Yami didn't reply, but Yugi felt a cloud of irritation rise up within the pharaoh's spirit. Finally, Yami said sullenly, "The only reason I'm wary of all these people is because you're too willing to have faith in them," almost to himself.

"I heard that," Yugi answered. He slung the bag onto his shoulders and sprinted in the direction of the road. Leaves crunched beneath his sneakers, and branches snatched at his jacket and shirt. The heavy Puzzle hit his chest every time he took a step, bringing with it a small pang as the sharp gold ends dug through cloth into skin.

Yugi emerged from the trees and jogged up the concrete path, rubber soles tapping against the pavement and echoing in a strange way - as though he were the only person in the park, the city, the world, even. It gave him a feeling of faint loneliness - one he hadn't experienced since learning that the soul of an ancient king was trapped inside the necklace his grandfather had given to him. Or, perhaps right after - when Joey had stopped teasing him at school and started sitting with him at lunch, and asking him advice on how to win duels. Or, maybe, when he had first looked at Tea and realized how she was really quite pretty….

"Yugi!" Yami surged into control of the body, slamming one foot sideways onto the ground and letting the weight of the school bag pull them over backwards. "Do _not_ just run straight out onto the road!" he mentally shouted in exasperation. "We didn't _have_ cars in Egypt, and even _I_ know better than that!"

Yugi blinked, looking at the street that stretched across the grass in front of him, the Interstate. A van flashed past him, a blur of roaring blue metal and slick rubber tires, a machine of crushing, speedy death. Then it was gone, and an instant later the exhaust-filled wind and the sound of the engine washed over him.

"Sorry, Yami." Heh, what would happen when he didn't have ancient teenagers to keep him from killing himself?…

It took ten minutes to walk to a bus stop, another fifteen for a bus to actually arrive, this close to the outskirts of the city, and, after the half-hour ride, Yugi was exhausted. The day had been trying, for him and Yami, and he hoped that the shop wouldn't be busy, and so he could do his homework and go straight to bed.

When he finally stepped off the bus and the doors trundled shut behind him, the vehicle coughing and sputtering down the road, Yugi was surprised to see the shop's sign turned to CLOSED. His grandfather never closed until eight, even on holidays.

He walked slowly up to the door, turned the knob and slid in, his backpack banging against the doorframe. The small bell on the top of the door jingled as it swung shut behind him.

Most things seemed normal in the shop, with rare or powerful cards being displayed in the glass counter, the cash register locked after another day of work, shelves covered with boxes and packs of cards stacked high, the carpeted stairs leading up to the house section, where Yugi and his grandfather lived above the shop.

But, in front of the counter there was Joey, his face flushed and covered in perspiration, and behind it was Yugi's grandfather, speaking rapidly into the phone, addressing, it sounded like, Tea. Tristan could be heard yelling from upstairs, sounding like he was in Yugi's room.

"Grandpa?…" Yugi asked, dumbfounded. "What's going on?"

Mr. Mutou turned and dropped the phone, Joey doing the same, except he was holding his school bag instead. Then, suddenly, Yugi's grandfather was shouting at him, looking relieved, "Yugi, where have you been! You were supposed to be home hours ago!" and Joey was slumping against the wall with a very loud "Umph!" and Tristan was galloping down the steps, leather jacket flapping.

"What?" Yugi said, blinking large purple eyes around at everyone.

"It's almost seven, man," Joey said, obviously worn out. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but school lets out at two-thirty. Gramps thought you'd been kidnapped or somethin'."

"Oh," Yugi responded. "Er…." He scratched his head. "… Sorry?"

"What the heck were you doing for almost five hours?" Tristan said hastily, noting that Mr. Mutou looked rather close to spontaneous combustion.

Hearing that, Yugi suddenly became quite animated. "Guys, I met a lady who says she can bring Yami back to ancient Egypt!" he cried enthusiastically. He let the bag drop from his back with a _rustle-bump_ onto the linoleum-tiled floor. "And she says that I can bring you guys and Tea with us!"

Joey blinked and shot up, grinning. "Hey, that's great, Yami!"

"Enh," Yami replied inarticulately.

"Yami doesn't like her," Yugi explained promptly.

Yami kicked slightly at the floor of his Soul Chamber. "You don't even know what _malaise_ means, Yugi."

Later that night, after finishing his homework and after Yami had retreated to his Soul Chamber to rest, Yugi lugged the enormous dictionary off of the shelf and thumbed through it, until -…

_ malaise, n_._, a feeling of illness, depression, or pain_.

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Please review! Reviews make caterpillars happy! 


	3. Chapter 2: Contingency

Chapter Two: Contingency

"Yugi, wake up."

Yugi mumbled incoherently and moved deeper into the blankets, pulling the sheet up over his head. His shoulder was in a firm but gentle hold, and was being shaken slightly. "Wake up, Yugi… It's time for school," Solomon Mutou coaxed.

"Nomph," Yugi responded promptly, tugging his shoulder free and burying his head in the pillow face-first. He didn't want to get up; it was too early for any sensible person to be awake. He wanted to enjoy the luxury of warmth and rest for a few more seconds before being herded into school, where the teachers would drone monotonously on and on, and where he was quite often mistaken for an elementary-school little brother come to visit his older sibling. A few months ago, he would have been worried about bullies as well - but with Tristan's and Joey's brawn, Yami's glares and prideful threats, and Tea's very real warnings that she would call the principal down to expel anyone who hurt Yugi, he was a little safer now. But even without impending physical injury, school was not an extremely glorious place to be.

Mr. Mutou's voice was sharper now. "Yugi, you'll be late. Get up."

Yugi sleepily opened one eye to gaze dully at his grandfather. "Nooooooo…."

"Go to school or I'll take away your deck."

The effect was nearly instantaneous. Yugi was out of bed within a second, pulling on his pants with one hand and buckling several belts with the other. Mr. Mutou chuckled and thumped down the stairs, going first into the storage room for more cards and then to the kitchen. Yugi heard the clang of a frying pan being dropped, and then a string of… very interesting words.

Ten minutes later, Yugi ran down the steps, two at a time, grabbed a PopTart off the counter (ignoring his grandfather, who was insisting that he eat something healthy for once), slung his backpack over his shoulder and burst out to meet Tea, waiting for him. They walked to school, cutting through Main Street and glancing warily at KaibaCorp, wondering if the millionaire had already been driven to school in his limousine, and finally turned the last corner and came within sight of the school building. Joey, sitting on the steps, waved, jumped up and started toward them, and Tristan was already swaggering through the gate.

Yugi waved back to Joey, and suddenly there was a sharp pain in his chest, directly where he kept the Millennium Puzzle tucked inside his shirt. He winced and glanced down, confused. His chest panged again. And again.

"Yugi Mutou…."

Yugi blinked and looked around wildly. The sensation of words, inside his head, was similar to when Yami spoke to him, but… this was different. It hurt, almost, and pulled with it old cobwebs of guilt, frustration, and half-dead, not-quite-forgotten fears. The voice was different, as well, it was not Yami's. Someone else…? But that was impossible. No one had access to Yugi's mind except the spirit….

"Little Mutou boy…."

An unexpected, horrible tearing feeling struck him dead-center in his chest. Yugi cried out and fell, hugging his form with his arms, pressing the Millennium Item tightly against his body. He could still feel Yami, but the pharaoh wasn't helping… No… He _couldn't_ help….

"Yugi Mutou!…"

"M - Malaise…?" Yugi choked, oblivious to the people leaning over him, mouths open, moving, eyes staring, hands flittering up and down, in and out of his vision.

"Yes. I said that you would know when it was time." He could hear her voice clearly now, almost see her swaying frame, small against the dark, wide interior of his mind.

"Now…?"

"Yugi!" A new voice, Yami's. It sounded panicked, an emotion Yugi rarely felt from the pharaoh. He couldn't see the ancient king, and hearing him was difficult - as though there was a thick wall between them, high and powerful. Unbreakable.

"Yugi!" Now another voice shouting, also sounding distressed. This one was Tea's, and there were other murmurings in the background, drowning out Malaise and Yami.

"Is it a seizure?…"

"…shock maybe…."

"…ambulance? Does he need that kind of help?"

"Yugi, can you hear me?"

"Please, be quiet!" he shouted, ripping himself from Malaise's eyes, staring unblinkingly at him, waiting. "Please, everyone just be quiet!"

"Yugi!" Joey protested. "But - are you okay?"

"Be _quiet!_" the smaller one shouted, and then turned his mind inward again. Malaise's eyes were the only things clear to him at this point. If he could just concentrate on what she was telling him, then everything would be all right. Or at least improve.

"The heights are calling," Malaise recited.

"What?! Malaise?! What are you -" Yugi could feel his mind and mouth forming the words, but couldn't hear them anymore.

"The gods have chosen," Malaise proclaimed, tipping her head back. Long hair spilled from the inside of her hood, plaited into tiny braids, coiling around her face and neck in a wind that touched only her - Yugi could hear it, screaming in his ears and freezing him so that he could no longer think. Every few seconds, Malaise would make a high, harsh, guttural sound in her throat; every time he heard it, his chest would swirl with pain again, clouding his eyes.

"So beckons death." Malaise lowered her head and arms; the wind stopped, the pain ceased; Yugi could see and hear again. His breathing was strained, coming in short, ragged gasps; his fingers were locked around the Puzzle, unmindful that it was quivering and searing with fire.

There were hands on his shoulders; someone was thrusting the heels of their hands into his chest; somebody was forcing hot air into his mouth, down his throat and into his folded lungs. But he couldn't hear Malaise, and Yami wasn't speaking anymore….

Yugi opened his eyes, blank and unfocused. In a moment, he could see people staring down at him: Tea, Joey, Tristan, other students, one or two teachers. Joey pulled at his friend's jacket and propped Yugi against his backpack, which someone had taken off. Yugi still wasn't talking at all; in fact, he didn't even seem to be aware of them.

"Are you okay?" Tea asked, her face several shades paler than it should have been. She had been the one breathing for him. If he could just concentrate, he probably would have been quite happy about that.

Yugi shook his head, not to clear it, but to try to get the images back… Yami's shouting had been cut off, and Malaise had simply faded… Were they all right? Yami, anyway?…

"Yugi!"

"What?" he said distractedly, not looking up. Joey shook him.

"We asked if you were okay, man - you stopped breathing!"

"I'm fine," Yugi said apathetically. His hands were still locked around his Item, but it wasn't burning him anymore. Now it was cold, dead metal cold. It never felt that way. Not since he'd put it together. Not even when it was in pieces, sitting in a gold-painted box. It was always - not warm, but - it had life. _Contained_ life.

Tea glanced upward, at the tense faces circling the four of them, then leaned in and whispered, "Is something wrong with your Puzzle? Is that why you freaked out?"

"No…." Yugi muttered thickly, and shook his head. "That's not why…."

Lights, and a high, whining whistle began to echo over the schoolyard. A white van, scarlet crosses painted over its immaculate sides, pulled into the lot, blacktop grinding beneath the thick tires. Some people shied away from the ambulance, others, mostly the younger students, pressed forward eagerly, trying to see inside the vehicle, to the portable respirators and the sheeted gurney.

Yugi pressed his head between his knees. This wasn't right, Yami should be saying something, he should be checking to make sure Yugi wasn't hurt, he should be cursing out Malaise, anything, where was he?! He shut his eyes tightly and felt the Item draw his mind in, a slight, dizzying feeling, and then he was in his own Mind Chamber, yellow-walled and cheerful. The single mirrored wall, however, was a dark, glowing blue - the color that signaled confusion or apprehension, at least to Yugi. He stepped out of his chamber, into the pulsing, dimly glowing nothingness that was the Item itself - its own magic, both dark and light. He walked hastily through it, the familiar shiver traveling quickly down his spine. He reached the turn in the corridor, swung around it, and then -

There was nothing.

Nothing at all.

The hall ended in a blank, nondescript wall, spinning slowly with Shadow Magic, but there was nothing else. Yami's Soul Chamber was always there, on the wall, the door inscribed with hieroglyphics and seething with energy. But there was no door. The corridor wall was not even marred where the entrance to the chamber should have been. It was as though the Item did not know that it was intended to house the spirit of an ancient, young pharaoh.

Yugi stared blankly at the empty space, eyes round, mouth slightly agape. Then, a feeling uncomfortably similar to panic flooded through him, and he wheeled and dashed back out into the Item's nihility, the empty, cold, dead Puzzle thumping rhythmically against him with every step. He ran, thoughts racing, which in turn meant that he, the mental form of himself, ran faster and faster until everything ground to a complete halt. He forced himself to stop, mind no longer reeling, and turned to face nothing, hoping that she could hear him:

"_Malaise!_" he screamed, as loudly as he could, and was surprised to hear the thought burst as a shout from his mouth, shrill and ear-splitting, quite real to those standing around him. Several backed away; paramedics hurried forward, giving instructions, asking what was wrong, all of it.

Yugi threw his head up wildly; Joey and the others stared for a millisecond at his face, stricken. One of the paramedics reached out to touch his arm, and the instant he felt pressure, Yugi bolted.

Tristan shouted for him, but Yugi shoved through the people standing about the schoolyard, panting. He ran out onto the road; a car screeched and swerved, a loud blast from the horn rising above the volume of Tea's shriek. Yugi stumbled backwards, tripping, and somewhere in the back of his mind, noticed the car was blue, and wondered if it was the same one that he had almost stepped in front of yesterday.

Yami had been the one who'd kept him from being hit that day….

He began running again. Not a single sight was clear to him, it was simply a blur of colors and sounds, and he shut it off. Running had worked in the past; if fists were pounding into him and shouts were boring onto his ears, he could always run. Escaping, hiding had solved many problems, but they caused endless circles, ceaseless cycles: he was hurt, he fled, the attacker was encouraged to hurt him more, he ran from further torment, they persisted… on and on and on, but running always brought ease to pain. It was more than instinct - it was fact. If he ran, then maybe when he stopped, pain, confusion, the problem itself would be gone.

"Yugi Mutou."

"Malaise!"

He stumbled at the sound of her voice in his head, but immediately recovered with a sharp accusation: "You did something! Where's Yami? What did you do? Did you hurt him? What did you _do?!_"

Malaise remained calm, cool, impassionate. "I did nothing more than what you agreed, child. Yami is restored to Egypt - therefore, he is no longer imprisoned within your Millennium Puzzle."

"But you said I could go -"

"And you shall."

"But did you hurt him?! You cut us off from each other - he was afraid -"

"Control yourself, Yugi Mutou. The Pharaoh is not injured."

"But you said I could go too!"

"You will," Malaise replied, no emotion sounding in her voice. She was purely remote, unruffled, as though all of Yugi's panic were below her, only a trivial matter. "But you were not reacting well to the relocation. You were responding with fear and pain. I cannot transport you if you behave in such a way."

Yugi was now standing, utterly still, in the center of the road, listening to Malaise. Cars were piling together, jammed into tight knots, on either side of him, drivers swearing, leaning out of windows to bellow at him, horns blaring in high soprano crescendos. He tuned them all out and paid careful, mistrustful attention to the woman speaking inside of his mind. Only Malaise mattered now. She could tell him what must happen.

Joey pelted along the sidewalk, waving his arms in wild gesticulations, calling for his friend to get out of the street. Yugi paid no mind.

"The alteration of time will be painful," Malais informed him steadily. "You were upset by my relocating the Pharaoh; that is not an advantageous reaction. You seem rather delicate - too insubstantial for me to reposition safely -"

"I don't mind," Yugi said quickly. He rarely sensed alarm in Yami, and such an enormous wave of it had frightened Yugi badly - Yami was almost never afraid, even to the point of foolishness. He was a terrible judge of his own limits, too proud. "I'll be fine."

He could envision Malaise's curt nod. "Very well," she responded. Yugi closed his eyes, preparing for his chest to begin throbbing again.

It didn't come. Instead of a gradual building of tension, Yugi felt as though a thousand knives had pierced his body all at once. He did not have time to scream, before he felt a tearing sensation - as if his soul were pinned, ragged and torn, to the floor by the knives, and now his body was yanked away, leaving him exposed and defenseless. In the space of a second, he was unconscious and plummeting, a tiny, insignificant grain of sand tumbling from the sky, blown hither and thither by the slightest breeze.

Tea gasped in shock. Unexpectedly, a mental slug of hot iron had imbedded itself into her abdomen, twisting and gnawing at her. She swayed where she stood, and then toppled backwards, a high-pitched, guttural sound ringing in her ears, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw a woman standing in front of her, clothed in torn robes, her eyes hidden from view, creating a rasping, high animal noise in her throat, each time bringing forth new stabs of pain. Then, darkness closed over Tea, and she plunged backwards, spiraling headfirst, not hitting the sidewalk.

Malaise stood silently, watching the results of her work. She was unnervingly aware that this was her last chance, and that she had rushed. Perhaps it would have been wiser to wait… but it had been necessary to act now, as soon as possible, for the opportunity would surely pass, and then… then… failure.

Failure was unacceptable.

She prayed that she had not made a mistake, and if she had, that it not be a fatal one. Her lips moved silently in entreaty.

There could not be another error….


	4. Chapter 3: Empiricism

Chapter Three: Empiricism

Joey groaned. He felt as though he had been run over by a school bus; every joint and muscle ached. His head and chest were buzzing with soreness. He shifted and realized that he was lying down, stretched spread-eagle on a soft, slithery substance, something dry and grainy that was rubbed through his hair and into the folds of his clothing.

Wincing, he sat up, massaging his bruised forehead. Glancing down, he confirmed that he was positioned awkwardly on a dense mound of fine sand, gritty and almost pearl-white, soft enough to pour inside his jacket and shirt like water and catch there.

He stood unsteadily, clutched for a moment at his head, then straightened and surveyed the area. Sand was everywhere, and a great white sphere was suspended overhead in a ridiculously blue sky, hot and endless. It took him a brief examination to realize that the gargantuan, shining orb was the sun, of such brilliance as he had not yet seen in his life. He turned and absorbed further plains of sand, lying flat, continuous, exceeding his sight and stretching beyond the lip of the horizon; and to his left, a thin ribbon of cerulean, gleaming almost green in the sun. Beside it there were small, crudely carved structures, constructed of slabs of brown-tan stone, windows cut into the low walls.

He started toward the river and the buildings, sneakers sinking down into the sand, so deep that the soft granules mounted high as his ankles. Sweat trickled down his face, through the strands of hair plastered to his skin, and into his mouth, a single taste drowning his entire tongue with salt and thickening the throat with almost unbelievable thirst.

It took longer than he expected to reach the buildings, and by the time he finally stepped into the shade of the alleyways, he was exhausted. Joey let himself lean back against a large, smooth clay jar and slide down to the sandy ground.

The door to one of the buildings slammed open, and two children rushed out, giggling. Joey glanced uninterestedly at them, then swung around and shot a double-take. The dark-skinned, black-haired children were unclothed from the waist up, including the small girl. Whoa. Wasn't that, something or other, disturbing the peace? If his little sister had ever run around like that -

"Hey!" he called to them. They turned. The boy placed his fingers in his mouth and sucked noisily. "Why don't you have, y'know, shirts on?"

The two looked at each other. The strange, fair-skinned boy spoke with a bizarre accent, and sounded as though - well, almost as if he didn't know the language correctly. And the question about shirts -?

The boy removed his fingers. "Why should we?" he called back suspiciously.

Joey was taken aback. "Well, eh, 'cause… cause you gotta have shirts… doncha?" He ran his hand through thick, dark blonde hair, looking them over critically. Something about the boy's English hadn't sounded right, like this was a movie in a foreign language, and he was reading the subtitles.

The boy and girl were still studying him intently, with large, black eyes. Joey felt uncomfortable with them… _staring_ at him.

"_Joey!_"

Joey shoved himself to his knees and turned halfway. "Tristan!" he yelled, relieved. "Where've you been?!"

The other boy raced up to him, sand spraying from his heels. The children melted back into the alleyways, mindful of the new arrival. "Hey," Tristan puffed, leaning onto his knees and sucking in scorching air. "Where in heck are we?"

Joey moaned with disappointment. "I hoped you'd know…."

"Nope. But there are tons of people here," the brown-haired boy said, straightening, but still fighting for breath, obviously spent from running. "They all - I mean - the girls, they've got no -"

"Shirts?"

"I was looking for 'decency'…."

"Wait - if you're here - we're both here, then where's Yugi and Tea?" Joey squinted and immediately began to scan the horizon, searching for signs of the girl or boy. Nothing. His face creased with concern. "We ain't here alone, are we?"

They began to wander down alleyways and through streets; grateful for the shade of the buildings and feeling their clothes cling to them, dampened, in the blazing heat of the sun. They peeled off their jackets, looking for Tea or Yugi… or anyone, really. But the doors they passed were locked, the windows shut and battened.

The sun began to sink, its fiery arms retreating toward the tops of the buildings, mocking the sweating inhabitants with last cruel bursts of heat. Light glared off of the pale sand into their eyes as they trudged, now silently, through deserted streets.

Without any warning, bells rang out, pealing urgently through the still dusk. A boy began shouting, "They're driving the soldiers back! We're losing ground! Get out! _Get out!_" Instantly, every door flew open. Women, girls appeared, dragging children, stuffing bread into baskets with one hand and securing a knife onto their belt with the other, scolding, instructing, comforting.

A little girl, probably no more than six, resisted her mothers tugging and asked, in a small, fearful voice, "But Mama, the pharaoh won't let anything bad happen to us, will he? You said he wouldn't."

The woman, impatient and laden with two other offspring, said in a preoccupied, frustrated tone, "Yes I did, but he can't do everything, can he, now come _on_," and yanked her daughter away into the crowds streaming from the village.

Tristan turned to Joey, with the intention of cautioning him and suggesting they leave as well, but Joey wasn't there. In a moment, he'd spotted him, fighting his way upstream of the masses and forcing his way toward a cloud of dust rising far off. Faint calls could be heard, and metal flashed in the dying sun.

"_Joey!_" Tristan bellowed, but not even the woman shoving past him could hear the shout over the tumult. Resigned, he began pushing toward his impulsive friend, cursing his blatant and inquiring attitude with every step.

Joey could hear roars, a battle cry, and see men fighting. And - there were - God, what _were_ those things, they weren't human! He forced his way through the last straggling villagers and ran flat-out toward the battleground, peering at the dark shapes hurtling across the land and through the sky and dense smoke.

The area directly to his right suddenly exploded in a blaze of sand and singeing heat. Joey was thrown forward and sideways, landing facedown and skidding, scraping the line of his jaw against the now-rough terrain. He levered himself up and witnessed an enormous, brown, writhing mass thrusting itself from the ground, a gaping tooth-filled mouth crowning its slimy head. Spikes protruded in random, unorganized locations all along its long body, the sticky, fatty skin covered with a thin layer of dark sand.

"_Joey!_" Tristan skidded to a sudden halt. People pressed around him, mouths wide, eyes round, staring as the giant wormlike creature lifted its thick body high, preparing, and then plunged downward, its circular mouth opened fully, red gullet exposed.

Joey stared up in shock. He could see row upon row of razor-sharp fangs, lining a deep, wet mouth, a long tongue of a mottled purple color; all rushing down upon him; a scream was crawling up his throat and gagging him….

"JOEY!" 

An arrow sliced cleanly through the air and buried itself deep into one of the wobbling, gelatinous eyes. The gigantic sandworm shrieked and flung itself backwards, thrashing at air. Dark green liquid spurted from the punctured eye and landed in hissing, acidic puddles on the ground.

Hard brown hands pulled Joey from the ground, someone was yelling, "By gods, run, you idiot!" and then shoving him; another arrow was pulled swiftly from the quiver, and in a flash, there was a second shaft protruding from the monster's flesh. A fresh howl proceeded to rock the earth.

Joey stumbled and, finally realizing that this was definitely not a good place to be, looked wildly for a place to run. But now there were fighters all about him: soldiers clad in metallic armor, bearing swords and daggers, arrows, spears, vile liquids that they threw upon men and skewered the enemy as he was blinded.

A third arrow, a fourth, fifth, and finally the giant worm squealed and crashed gasping to the ground, the last arrow having found its brain. Joey jumped away from the carcass, then grinned asininely and shook a fist at it. "Yeah, ya don't mess with Joey Wheeler!" he proclaimed.

"_Wheeler_, _you stupid moron!_" Tristan bellowed. "Come over here before you get yourself sliced in half!"

"Mother!" a boy cried, pointing. "It's the -"

One didn't need to ask what he was pointing at, for it was quite clear. Rising from the swirling smoke, elongated violet staff in hand, long lavender hair tangling in the _swish_ of spears, purple armor gleaming with the sunset and blood - the Dark Magician swung its weapon and unleashed a torrent of energy upon the hapless soldiers, electricity crackling along the sand and turning sweat to steam.

Tea, balancing on top of one of the buildings, surveyed the battle. She could see animals - _creatures_ was more the word for them - darting in and out of the smoke and dust, and men fighting, launching weapons at each other, and getting so close that they had to struggle hand-to-hand, so close they could have stuck out their tongues and licked the grime from their opponents' faces.

She stared, riveted and revolted, at the death and combat - and gasped as she witnessed the Dark Magician ascending through the dust, attacking countless men, and then… returning to his master. The thick haze of dirt cleared for a moment, and she could see what looked, almost, like an older version of Yugi - but prouder, straighter, and… more vicious. The person raised his arm once more, and with the gesture the Magician was off, directed to new targets. The smoke condensed again.

Tea slid over the wall, to the ground. She had seen a blonde figure run out toward the battle, then become caught up in it. No one here was light-haired; she knew that much. If she was here, then other people from the schoolyard were here too. The blonde might have been Joey. He could be hurt.

She ran, long legs pumping, over the hot sand, wriggling her way through the people packed tightly against each other, watching the fight. She stumbled once or twice, over feet and baskets, and finally reached the end of the crowd. As she scanned the fighters for Joey, a hand grabbed her shoulder.

"Tea!"

She turned. "Tristan! You're here too!"

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the mêlée. Tea twisted to watch as well. "Is Joey in there?" she asked him after a moment, voice quavering slightly.

Tristan nodded mutely. "If he's…." The brown-haired boy couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes were locked onto the gleaming swords, red-flecked, and the beasts tearing through lines of men like they were twigs.

Joey dove to the ground and hugged the sand; someone stepped on him and another rolled onto the sand less than a foot away, throwing a gritty veil into his face, but he shut his eyes and covered his head. Anyplace above the ground was thick with fighters, spears, and spells. The earth was the safest place to be.

A man suddenly fell directly on top of him. A heavy black cloak slid over Joey's face, and the man jammed his elbow right beneath Joey's shoulder blade to lever himself up. The blonde twisted and managed to roll over, throwing the bulk of the weight off and onto the ground.

Raising himself slightly, Joey glanced at the man. His mouth fell open, and dirt was scattered into it, lining his tongue and turning to mud between his teeth. Unmindful, Joey pushed himself higher and stared directly into the face of the warrior.

"Kaiba!" Joey sputtered.

The man took no notice. It _couldn't_ be Seto Kaiba. This man was older, stronger, the face browned by sun. And last Joey had seen him, Kaiba had been reclining on the school steps, clicking away at his twenty-grand laptop. That was at home. And wherever this place was, it was definitely not Domino.

Joey would have leaned forward and peered at the man, if time allowed, but before he got more than a few seconds' eyeful, a hand had snatched the front of the man's black robe and a rapier was pressed severely against his throat, the owner heedless of the drops of blood that trickled from the resulting damage.

Joey looked up, and now swallowed the sand in his mouth. The person holding the sword looked exactly like Yugi - well, almost - but the violet eyes were dark and narrowed, and this new someone was older, stronger. Where the heck was he - a place where everybody Joey knew was an adult combatant?

"Call off your men, Kafit," the Yugi-entity commanded, voice low but piercing.

The man who looked like Kaiba, Kafit apparently, said nothing in reply, but discreetly edged his hand along the ground toward a nearby discarded dagger. Instantly, the Yugi look-alike's foot was on top of the knife, grinding it into the sand, and the sword was beginning to slice against the jugular vein. "_Now_, Kafit!" the mirror image ordered.

"Damn you, pharaoh -"

There was a violent cuff across the side of Kafit's skull with the flat of the blade; then a small _crack_ as his head snapped to one side, straining the neck. Kafit glared upward, and the king raised the sword again, the pointed ended aiming directly for Kafit's upper body.

The man's body tensed, and, after a moment's hesitation, called out loudly, "Cult!"

There was an immediate halt to the brawling. As the dust settled, Joey could now clearly see the men: some clad in armor of light mesh, and the others, their enemies, clothed in long, coal-colored cloaks, hoods up and faces covered.

Kafit's face contorted, but he said, voice gravelly: "Weapons down. Abandon your spells."

There was a minute of irate muttering, but eventually, the men in black allowed swords, knives and bows to fall, glowing spheres to fade, monsters to slowly disintegrate into thin clouds of Shadow Magic. Joey stared about himself in amazement. This was incredible!

The Yugi-look-alike pharaoh, still grasping Kafit's robe and holding the sword against him, glanced around, measuring how many of his own men were lost, how many the Cult had, whether or not the villagers had been attacked… Neither side had lost very heavy casualties. The city was unharmed. If Kafit would just act intelligently and not come back….

Reluctantly, the king let go of Kafit, who stood immediately and offhandedly brushed off his cloak. The gesture was intended to look casual, but the insult was clear, as though Kafit had come into contact with something unclean.

Joey watched the pharaoh's jaw clench, then saw him draw a steadying breath. The contempt between he two men was so dense Joey could nearly taste it. Although, he now realized, Kafit was the only man in the pair. The king - he was even younger than Joey was!

"You will take your men up to the Red Lands, and then beyond them _without injuring any_," the pharaoh said evenly, trying to keep the hiss out of his voice. "You will proceed back to your own homeland, Kafit, and disperse your militia to their own residences. Under no circumstances, unless on peace negotiations between your land and mine, are you to return here. Do you understand?" The last sentence was not really a question, but a note of finality, and the king obviously didn't intend for Kafit to answer it. He turned and began to walk toward his own soldiers.

Kafit's voice became very soft. "And if I refuse?"

The pharaoh stopped. A deep shudder went through his body, fury building - the insolence of this man! He was sparing Kafit's life, letting him return home rather than the public execution he deserved, and now he was -!

The pharaoh took in another deep breath. His father had taught him never to show fear to an opponent - likewise, extreme emotion. It was even more important on the battlefield than in the dueling arena. With effort, he kept his voice from grating, and addressed the Cult-member: "Accept the terms, Kafit. They're more then you merit." The pharaoh didn't do Kafit the honor of turning to look at him as he spoke.

One black-gloved closed suddenly around the hilt a sword. Kafit's blade, drawn, flashed briefly in the sunlight before slashing the other man deep across the side, spinning him halfway and throwing him onto the ground. The razor edge turned crimson.

The Egyptian army, as one, it seemed, drew in a stunned breath, and then suddenly the battle rekindled, only this time each and every soldier attempted to reach Kafit, all determined to hack his head from his neck. Kafit's fellow cult-members resisted the charge toward their commander, pushing back at the soldiers, but regardless, he was overwhelmed before he had chance to raise his sword's tip from the earth.

Yugi was perched precariously on an overturned battlewagon, only a short way from the clashing men. Shading violet eyes, he peered, squinting, at the tangle of weaponry and struggling people. It seemed as though there had been a lull in the battle for a moment, but then a loud roar had gone up and suddenly the swords were swinging again. He flinched away from the killing.

Yugi noticed one boy, without armor, equipped only with a thin bow and a quiver of arrows, obviously not a soldier… He was having difficulty with two men, dressed in black, who were holding what appeared to be handfuls of fire. They were forcing him back, away from the main fighting, and were closing in too rapidly for him to be able to use his arrows.

Yugi watched with mounting concern, ignoring the other fighters, and then gasped as one flaming orb grazed the boy's shoulder, burning skin and distracting him long enough for the thrower's partner to leap at him, smashing the boy under the neck with his metal-clad shoulder, ramming him over and onto a sand dune. Two pairs of hands closed around the boy's arms instantly, pinning him to the ground.

Yugi jumped to his feet, poising himself unsteadily on top of the cracked wooden side of the wagon. "_Hey!_" he shouted as loudly as he could. The robed men, momentarily distracted, looked up at him in perplexity. In the pause the trapped boy managed to hit one of them directly in the face, knocking him to the side, and somehow achieved a maneuver that twisted his body into the air, bringing his leg down over the back of the remaining man's head, laying him out flat.

The boy scrambled up, looked over at Yugi, brushing the disheveled, long hair from his eyes, and raised one hand in appreciation. Then he wheeled and ran back toward the battle, drawing an arrow and inserting it into his bow. Yugi stared at the receding figure. He had looked like… but… but that was insane….

Tristan kept his grip on Tea's shoulder, unconsciously squeezing tighter and tighter as he watched the battle continue. The fighting was definitely thinning: the armored side, the one fighting the men in black cloaks, was no longer focused on their opponents, but on the young man who Tristan had seen be attacked from behind. He noticed the fighters repeatedly ran over to the youth's side, and then usually stayed there, swords ready, fending off anyone who tried to come near. Tristan was reminded of Joey, and how protective he was of his little sister, Serenity.

And if Joey got out of that mess alive, Tristan was gonna _kill him!_

Finally, the last of the black-garbed men retreated, pulling back in a straggly line of coal-colored bodies, over the hills of sand. Several hung back, but soon ran after their comrades, preferring temporary withdrawal to facing the Egyptian army alone. 

Tristan expelled an enormous amount of air, seeming to flatten his lungs, and gripped Tea's shoulder so hard that she yelped and smacked him across the forearm. He began to apologize, then spotted a bobbing blonde head in the milling soldiers, and, forgetting Tea, tore across the turf. He tackled Joey, yanking him to the ground, and then proceeded to hold him stomach-to-the-sand and whacked his head repeatedly, shouting in that if he ever so much as watched an old war movie Tristan would chain him to the wall.

"My lord, are you all right?"

Tea, jogging in the direction that Tristan had sprinted in, half-turned at the sound of the voice. There was an enormous group of soldiers, packed tightly into a ring shape, surrounding someone. Tea blinked at the assemblage, wondering to whom the man was talking to. She could see the speaker, leaning forward with long, dark gray hair spilling over his shoulders, but not the person he was addressing.

Then a new voice came. "I'm fine, Siimon," the person said. There was a strange undertone in the voice, something strained, and Tea realized that it was pain - a person speaking over pain.

Forgetting Tristan for the moment, Tea turned and began to worm her way through the wedged soldiers. She caught snatches of the conversation while men squawked as she pushed past.

"My lord, should I send for the healer, or the priest -?"

"No, I'm all right, I shouldn't have turned my back on him in the first place… I'm _fine_, Siimon!"

"Your Majesty!" Someone shoved against Tea, knocking her to the side and losing her the ground she had gained through the men packed together. "My apologies," the man said to her heedlessly. Then, "Your Majesty!" again. The man, with a length of white cloth wrapped around his dark head and donned in a long beaded robe, pressed into the center.

Tea heard a groan. A very irritated, but secretly grateful groan. "Gods, Shadi, I told everyone, I'm all right -" The voice was then muffled by something.

"Drink this -"

"That hurts…."

"Tea!" She turned and saw Tristan, keeping an unyielding grip on Joey's arm, and next to them was a boy of very small stature - Yugi - he was waving. He cupped his hands around his mouth to magnify his voice. "You're gonna think I'm crazy, you'll never believe what I think I just saw!"

The threesome reached Tea, puffing. Yugi, catching his breath, offered her a colossal grin. "Hi," he panted. He had run all the way across the battlefield when he recognized Joey's golden head.

Straightening to look at Joey and Tristan, Yugi fingered the Millennium Puzzle around his neck. He knew just where they were - Malaise had promised he could go to Egypt, and she had made good on it. He had seen a huge, towering pyramid from his position on the wagon, fashioned from immense reddish-brown stone blocks.

"Yug's got a secret," Joey said jokingly. "An' he won't tell." He pried his arm away from Tristan, who glowered at him. Joey was a reckless idiot, he'd get himself beaten to a pulp before he'd shut up….

Tea cocked her head. "What, Yugi?" She heard argument break out behind her, the man who had shoved her asserting that the injured man be carried to the healer's dwelling, the latter wanly insisting he was perfectly well, and needed to go and see to the injured men.

Yugi drew himself up, and his eyes darted from left to right playfully. "You guys," he proclaimed, "we are in ancient Egypt, and I just saw Bakura as a soldier!"


	5. Chapter Four: Confluence

A/N: Ah, so here we are, still in ancient Egypt... Huzzah! Yami actually made an appearence last time, along with several other familiar faces. Now we're going to run around and panic... at least we will, until the oh-so-delicious Yami Bakura shows up...

Disclaimer: Whoa, deja vu... but anyways. I don't own it. If I did, Yami Bakura would have a fetish for mittens. Just like me.

Thank you to anyone who reads this fic, and please review if you do - I even updated a week early!

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Chapter Four: Confluence 

The three all blinked at him, then Tristan scoffed. "Get real, Yugi," he said dismissively. "Okay, this place _is_ weird, but it isn't ancient Egypt. Wasn't Egypt taken over by the Romans or something? The Greeks? It's all Greek to me…."

" And Bakura bein' a fighter?" Joey scratched his head with a newly liberated hand. "I don' know, Yug, doesn't that sound a little off to you? I mean, say this place is ancient Egypt - and I ain't saying that it is - but if it _was_, Bakura wouldn't be in it. And if _he_ was, he'd be anything except a soldier." He spread his arms expressively. "He'd sell… uh… water or somethin'."

Yugi looked hurt. "But you guys, how many kids have white hair? Hmm?" 

Joey shrugged. "Albinos? I dunno."

Tea gazed at Yugi, deep in thought. She knew better than to immediately write off what he'd just said. Granted, it was ridiculous, and quite impossible, yet… she'd had her share of the impossible, hadn't she? No one would believe her if she said that some of her closest friends had inanimate objects that housed ancient spirits. Or if she told them that monsters from a card game were real, and that she had felt - touched - watched them breathe, fight, and die. And it would be regarded as a joke if she announced that she had been several times to a place where magic was real, and reality could be warped by just a twist of the mind. "Well," she finally said, "Why do you think that, Yugi?"

Joey shot a look at her. "Aw, c'mon, Tea -" he protested. If they really were in - oh good God, if they were in the past, he could kiss any hope of normality goodbye. And they'd all probably wind up getting involved with psychopaths again - that seemed to happen pretty often.

She flashed him a withering glare. "Oh, be quiet. You haven't even listened to him yet -"

"Hey!"

They turned. Tristan made a tiny, strangled sound in his diaphragm.

The person who had called to them placed one hand on the bow that hung at his hip. "You're the guy who nearly got himself eaten by that Sand Worm, right?" he said, shifting the quiver of arrows to a more comfortable place on his back. When the yellow-haired boy nodded, he went on. "That was bloody stupid of you, running out into a battle without a weapon or even a shield. What were you doing, trying to commit suicide?" He tossed his long, white hair over his shoulder - it was annoying, always got in the way. "There are easier ways of doing that, you know."

"Uh -" the boy said. The archer looked uneasily at them. The thickskulled gold-haired one was gaping openly at him - in fact, they all were, all four of them. He momentarily considered letting his mouth drop open to make fun of them, but dismissed it. Maybe he had a bloodstain on his kilt….

Oh, wait a moment, the short one looked familiar… Yes, he had distracted the Cult-members long enough so that the archer could hit them… He wondered why. Didn't the kid know how dangerous it was to get involved with the Yashamaat?

"Thanks," he said to the short boy, and flicked his hair again. Gods, how aggravating could it _be?_ "For yelling at them, I mean," he added.

"Um - I - I mean - _Bakura?_"

The archer narrowed his eyes, and let his hand drift slightly closer to the arrows. "How do you know my name?" he asked cautiously, while quickly checking them over for weapons. They weren't armed, as far as he could see, but you could never tell… Syrians, maybe?

"My lord? Atem? Answer me!"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Poison -"

Bakura glanced over at the gathering of soldiers. Yami had been hurt? How badly?

Disregarding the four strangers for the moment, he shouldered his bow and elbowed his way through the mass of men. One turned to glare at him, then smirked. "Oh, 'lo Bakura. How's your brother?"

"Shut up," Bakura snapped. "You shut up about my brother, Kairos." He made a point of stepping on the older boy's foot while he passed. He made his way to the last stand of men, lined in a ring around an open patch of sand.

The priest was there, with his usual pompous adornments: the delicate golden ankhs hanging from his clothes, beads in bright colors woven into the gown, long rings dangling from his ears, ceremonial cloth wrapped about his shaved head. Only now, he was trying to wake another man, younger, who was slumped against the ground with blood spreading over the sand. The ruby color was swirled with a sickly, ashen tint. The one who was bleeding looked up, nodded at him and grimaced.

"Yami!" Bakura gasped. Then, he glared at Shadi, the priest. "What _happened?!_"

Shadi flinched. Bakura himself was reasonably pleasant, but if you upset him enough for his older brother to learn about it, then… well, then you had a problem. Before he could speak, Siimon spoke up. "Kafit attacked him. Even though the Cult surrendered."

"What's wrong with him?" Bakura said, now ignoring Shadi and turning to face Siimon.

"Slimy, cheating twit," someone else barked. "They're all just like Kafit, tipping their weapons with poison. Throwing fire into people's homes so we have to back off."

"Stringing victims up in the street," another person added.

"Tjat Highest," a man asked, using the respectful name for Shadi, "will the Pharaoh be all right?"

Shadi, not a weak man, hoisted the king up. Yami sucked air between his teeth as the slash scraped across the various bangles. "Yes. I hope. I am taking him back to the palace. The rest of you -"

"The rest of us go home and get some sleep!" several called.

The priest frowned. "No. You are to trace Kafit and his men's retreat back. We still don't know where they're camping -" He was cut off by loud complaints and protests. He turned to his partner, the Holy Man Mahammad, but the other man shrugged.

"They _have_ been at this for two days straight, Shadi," Mahammad said. Yami nodded in agreement, face turning rather red from being dangled upside-down.

Shadi threw up his free arm in exasperation. "Fine. Don't follow them. Leave and let Kafit get away again. ("Amen to that!" Kairos shouted.) But I want the elites back at the palace for instruction."

The tired soldiers began walking off in different directions, mostly toward the town, some back over the battlefield to look for friends who had fallen or were missing. Many stayed behind and offered to help the priest carry the pharaoh or call for the healer.

"Bakura -" The archer turned. Four pairs of eyes - hazel, brown, blue, and purple - all gawked at him in a very discomforting way. He shifted slightly and reached again for his bow.

"Do you four want something?" he finally said. The he added, "I don't have anything of value."

"Oh!" the girl said. Her hair, the color of mahogany, fell into her face as she shook her head. "Oh no, we're not trying to take anything - but, don't we know you?"

Ah. So that was it. Bakura inconspicuously returned the bow to its proper place on his belt. "No, I don't think so… you might be thinking of my brother, though, we look a lot alike."

Amazing, Yugi thought. Bakura really did live here. He looked different, and acted different - had Malaise done that? Changed where Bakura was from? And changed his family? Bakura had been an only child in Domino….

"Your brother? Well -" Tea started, about to say she didn't think so, when she noticed Yugi. He had just realized what was going on behind Bakura.

"Hey, that's -! …Um, I mean, is that the king?" he asked, eyes growing very round as Shadi tore a strip of linen from his robe and wound it tightly around his charge's slashed waist. Bakura glanced back.

"Yes, of course."

"He's hurt?!" All four blinked at Yugi, surprised by the sudden change in his voice. It had risen several octaves and then cracked.

"Yes," Bakura said, confused. Then, in a slightly sarcastic voice, he asked, "And do you know Pharaoh Atem personally as well?"

The reaction was not what he expected. Instead of making light of the teasing question, the short boy ran after Shadi, who was supporting Yami on the way back to the palace, and shoved through the soldiers trailing after them. "Yami!" he cried, obviously upset. "Shadi, what happened? Who hurt him?"

The turbaned man blinked large, slate-colored eyes at him. "Who are you?" both the priest and the king queried suspiciously, Shadi shifting Yami to make carrying him easier. "_Ouch!_ Dammit, Shadi…."

"Don't make fun, Shadi, I'm serious! How'd he get hurt?"

Bakura blinked back and forth between the boy and the priest. The kid acted as though he knew Shadi, and the man obviously had no idea who the boy was. What was going on?

"Y'know, Shadi… I met you a couple of times…." Yugi coaxed. "Duelist Kingdom… Battle City…."

Shadi's face twisted in bewilderment. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I'm a mage, not a mind-reader."

Yugi sighed, but still looked concernedly at Yami. "Okay then, Yami, what happened?"

Yami blinked at him in bewilderment. Who was this kid? He looked - the child looked like him, almost. "I -" he stammered. "I don't think I -"

"Venom, on Kafit's sword -" Bakura began, but Shadi turned away and began marching up to the palace again, and one of the soldiers drew his sword and pointed it warningly at Yugi.

"And why do you want to know?" he growled, the heavy chain mesh he wore clinking as he moved the sword further, causing Yugi to back away. Tea gasped, and Joey began stomping forward. "You a Syrian? You want to know so you can find a better way to kill him, that it?"

Yugi looked terrified, and angry at the same time. "I'd never hurt him, he's one of my best friends!"

The man scoffed. "Really," he said dryly, lifting the hem of Yugi's jacket with the tip of the blade. "Haven't seen you around… and the pharaoh's not known for making friends he doesn't show off." The other soldiers began to murmur in agreement and squint at Yugi.

"Yes, you're too pale to be Egyptian…."

"Never seen you before…."

"How old are you - ten years? You think the king would be friends with a child?"

The sword jabbed at Yugi's chest, causing him to sit down hard on the ground, staring up at the soldier's leering face. The sword poked swiftly at the Puzzle around his neck.

Yami twisted. "Kairos! Stop it!" he shouted back at the soldiers.

A hand closed roughly around the end of the blade. "All right, you idiots, you've had your fun, get lost." Yugi looked up at Bakura, standing over him and grasping the sword's edge. The archer's voice had changed - now it was low and rough, and he spoke sharply. He had narrowed his eyes and had arranged his uninhibited hand in a fist, glaring at the men.

The soldiers paused for a moment, studying him, then finally one said cautiously, "Which one are you?"

"Ryou, dimwit. Go away and bother someone else."

The man squinted. "I dunno -"

"Would you like to try to see if you can tell from how hard I can hit?" Bakura let go of the sword and cracked the fingers of his other hand, loudly, glowering at them with a sneer on his face. "Would that suit you, morons?"

The soldiers shifted for a few seconds, then turned and followed Shadi and Jhetu up the path, glancing over their shoulders at Bakura. "I don't think it's Ryou," one muttered.

"Do you really want to find out?" a companion asked him.

"Definitely not…."

Bakura watched them leave, then relaxed. "It's all right," he said carelessly, turning around and grasping the front of Yugi's jacket, lifting him off the ground. "They're idiots, but they won't really hurt anyone. But Kairos," he paused, "you need to watch out for."

"…So, who's Ryou?" Tristan finally asked.

Bakura fiddled awkwardly with the string of his bow, as though it were of extreme importance. "My brother," he said at length. "They're all stupid," he added fiercely. "And just because they think they're better than him, they think they can -" He visibly restrained himself. "I'm sorry, but I still don't know who you are."

"I'm Yugi, this is Tea, Tristan and Joey," Yugi said, pointing accordingly. He glanced once again at the receding figure of the priest, so carefully bearing another's person, as though he might break. Yami was still turned, staring at him in perplexity, limping unevenly beside the priest.

"I -"

Bakura glanced upward. "Do you four have someplace to go for the night?"

"What? Oh - no…."

"You should. Come on, then." The white-haired one promptly turned and walked away without a backward glance. Hesitantly, they followed. After a moment, Joey ventured to ask:

"Why do we need a place to stay, 'Kura? I mean, it's pretty hot out here -" he gestured to the now-indigo sky "- and buildings around here look kinda small. You sure you want us crowdin' in with ya?"

The archer didn't even turn around. "Of course." He glanced back at them. "_Where_ in the names of the gods do you come from, anyway? Don't you know about the Cult?"

"Cult?" they repeated.

"The Cult, also called the Yashamaat. They've been here for years, how can you not know about them? It's not safe to be out at night with them around."

"We're from… a long way off," Yugi allowed, elbowing Tristan and Joey hard to get them from blabbing anything. They gave him murderous looks, but forgot about the pokes within a moment.

Bakura shrugged. Maybe they were Hebrew. "Whatever." Through the increasing darkness, he led them through several alleyways, countless streets, and then turned a corner to where the buildings were, in comparison, quite shabby. The four visitors looked around with mild surprise. Bakura _lived_ here?

The guide was not at all ill at ease. He stepped casually over a few shards of broken pottery, bade them to watch for anything sharp, and then strode down the darkened street to one of the last buildings.

It was small and square, with a skin hung over the entranceway and only two windows in the whole thing. It obviously had no upstairs or basement, and it didn't look like it could possibly fit more than one or two small rooms. Yugi, Tristan, Joey, and Tea all stared at it, befuddled.

Bakura sighed, tired, and slid off his bow and quiver. "Ryou?" He motioned for them to follow him and pushed comfortably through the skin door. "Are you here?"

As Yugi ducked underneath the pelt, he sniffed. It still smelled almost alive, a sort of dusky, furry scent. There were other smells too - something heavy and overly sweet, and also the smell of smoke. There was an aroma of stone, too, if that were possible, and something sharp and pungent.

The room inside - there was only one - seemed incredibly small, but also bare on the floor. There were several skins inside, and some dried, reedy-looking stalks hung from the low ceiling. There was a jar, filled about halfway with water, a hollowed-out place in the back wall for a fire, but the strangest thing was that dozens of bows and knives hung on the walls, like an arsenal. And sitting in the corner was a person who, indeed, looked almost eerily like Bakura.

Tristan jerked in shock, and felt his hands clench as the young man looked up. The other three all flinched as well, and for yet another time stared openly.

The Spirit of the Millenium Ring. This one they really were sure of! It had to be, he looked just like Bakura, except the eyes were narrower, longer, and his face was slightly different. He was older. And he wore the offending object around his neck, gleaming gold against the bronzed skin.

Bakura sat down lightly next to him and picked up the small round fruit in front of him. The older one had set down the knife he had been peeling with when they came in, and Bakura grabbed it from the earth floor and began cutting at the skin of the fruit.

The older one glanced back and forth from his little brother to the four people standing in the middle of his house. Great. Who were they? Why did Bakura always have to bring people back here, like it wasn't enough to have the rest of the village to deal with….

After another moment, he stood and bowed from the waist, palms turned upward in front of him. "Hi, life and strength," he said after rising, dropping the courteous manner immediately afterwards. "Who are you people?"

Bakura gestured with the paring knife. "The girl is Tea, he's …yes, he's Joey, he's Tristan, and that one's Yugi." He smiled at them. "Sorry - this is my brother, Ryou." Ryou regarded them with mild curiosity and - he didn't bother hiding it - slight dislike and wariness. They all had an odd look about them, and the material of their clothing was thick - wool? But sheep weren't kept near here. Linen clothing was made here, papyrus and cotton clothing - not wool.

Well… he couldn't very well tell them to get out of his house…. Ryou shrugged indifferently and went back to the corner, snatching the knife back from his brother. Bakura glared at him, but without venom. Ryou looked only at the fruit and said, "Whatever. Make yourselves at home."

Tea stood awkwardly for a minute, then sat down next to one of the walls. Joey parked himself on top of the single stool, and the other two sat by Tea. Stripped of the knife, Bakura went outside for a few moments and came back with a thickly woven basket and a sharp stone. They watched him fill the basket with water from the jar, talking to them and asking them about subjects of no importance whatsoever. He yanked down one bundle of reeds, borrowed the knife and began slicing them.

Finally, after being asked about his hometown and replying 'Domino' (to the Egyptian brothers' extreme confusion) Yugi got up the nerve to ask, "So you know Yami?"

Ryou gave a very short laugh. Bakura ignored him and chopped one of the reeds in half. "Yes, I do. I've been friends with him for years. He," here he teasingly pointed the knife handle at his brother, "doesn't like Yami. I have no idea why."

Ryou shrugged and flashed a grin. "Can't help it. It's hereditary." He tossed one of the several fruits at Joey. "Here, eat it. You look half dead." Joey fumbled with the thing and finally recovered it. Within a second, Tristan had removed it and managed to fit the entire piece of food into his mouth. Tea, Yugi, and Bakura cracked up.

Ryou smiled a little, then glanced out of the window and cringed at the black, star-scattered sky. He had three, maybe four more hours. Then the others would know that he hadn't been there. It was not going to be in their nature to be very merciful, not after today….

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A/N: I know that someone is going to yell at me for saying Bakura was an only child... but yes, I do know about Amane. I just figured that Yugi might not... ''' 

Ah, I'm sorry... Ryou/Yami Bakura was pretty OOC. --'''''' Hikari Bakura seemed OOC too, I'm sure, but he's _not_. One of the themes I'd like to emphasize in "Consequence" is how people's personalities change depending on what situations they're used to. Having been raised by Yami Bakura, I decided that Hikari Bakura would be less... well... sweet. That's why I wrote him to be a bit rougher than normal.

Hm, as for that last paragraph... Well, you'll find out soon enough! Ryou's story is the part of "Consequence" that I find the most interesting, so I look forward to telling it in its entirety...

And that's all for my notes. Please review! The button won't hurt you::puppy eyes::


	6. Chapter Five: Negligence

A/N: Hello, and thank you for reading this far:) In this chapter, Yugi has a talk with Yami, Marik appears, and the Blue Eyes White Dragon looms over the horizon. ::gasp:: So, this chapter will not be as uneventful as the last one; sorry about that...

Ah, and thanks to the reviewers! Specifically, thank you to Arion Girl and dragonlady222. ::glomp:: Thanks to you two, I now have more reviews than chapters! Huzzah!

In response to Arion Girl's question (I think I put a note about this at the end of an earlier chapter, but I'll say it more clearly here): I started planning this fic several years ago, before I even knew this site existed. Since I had only watched the dubbed anime at that point, I knew Hikari Bakura as "Bakura", not Ryou. I also needed a name for Yami Bakura... so, I hunted around for "Bakura's" surname and found 'Ryou'; hence, that's what I named Yami Bakura. I eventually found this site and discovered their actual names; however, by this point I had about 80 pages' worth of material and was very emotionally invested in the characters, Yami Bakura ("Ryou") in particular. I considered changing the names, but in the end, decided not to. I didn't expect many people to read "Consequence" (the plot gets rather weird later on), but mostly wrote it to practice my own skills as a writer. So, the names remain switched...

However, if it's too confusing, I will of course change it. :)

Now, on to the chapter!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, Kaiba would bake cookies for everyone every other Sunday.

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Chapter Five: Negligence 

Yugi stretched but didn't open his eyes. It was Thursday. A school day. Grandpa would be up in a few minutes, if he wasn't already, and then he would come in to wake Yugi up. He curled up tightly and felt around for his pillow, eyes closed to keep the dream he had been having. His bed was hard, and the blanket felt strange, too scratchy to be his regular bedspread… where the heck was the stupid pillow?

He yawned, making his jaw pop, and opened his eyes. Instantly, as he gaped, he remembered what had happened. Malaise - Yami - Egypt - Bakura - He sat up, sending his school jacket sliding to the dirt floor. He stared around the small stone room: the melted-out candle in the window, the reeds dangling from the ceiling, Tea lying with her face to the wall, Joey draped languidly over the stool, Tristan sprawled on the floor, snoring. Bakura was in the corner opposite him, with kohl lining his eyes and wearing a length of cloth around his waist. Bakura was an ancient Egyptian. It surprised him all over again when he thought about it.

Someone was missing. Yugi glanced around, rubbing the sore spot on his chest where he had been lying on the Millennium Puzzle. Ryou! Where was Bakura's brother?

Yugi looked around at the five sleeping people, counting heads again. Yes, Ryou was gone - he could have just been outside to get water or something, but still, Yugi should check, shouldn't he? He stood, stretching his shoulders again until they popped too, and then pushed his way under the hide door.

The air wasn't cold, it was actually warm, but it had a _quality_ of coldness: a sharpness to it that made him have to breathe slowly and gingerly. He rubbed the Puzzle, like he always did, for comfort. It still felt like metal, but at least it wasn't icy to the touch anymore.

The sun was turning the sky pink to the east; Yugi could see the light shimmering off of the Nile. He smiled. If someone had ever told him he would be seeing the ancient Nile….

He started off in no particular direction, or so he thought, but mostly faced the not-quite-rising sun and walked that way. He could see something else glittering - only not water this time, but gold - gold and marble - something that stretched gracefully into the dark sky and caught the sunlight.

He now walked in that direction, and as he did he became aware of the people: moving near the river, dropping ropes - no, nets, fishing nets - into it, gathering reeds from the dark mud by the banks - papyrus, that was it! He had learned that in school - some children playing, other people just talking, several women and men tracing dark colors around their eyes or trimming the hair off of their faces. So many people!

Yugi walked steadily, goosebumps rising on his bare arms, even though the air was heating up. Even though it was amazing to be here, and wonderful, he couldn't help but feel wary. Malaise had put him here, he was sure of it… but could she bring him back home? On the same note, would Yami be going home with him?

That was what was bothering him - had Yami been hurt, poisoned enough not to recognize him? Or was it that - Yugi felt his throat tighten - that Yami didn't remember him?

"I have restored him to ancient Egypt," was what Malaise had said. Did that mean that he didn't remember Duelist Kingdom, the Rare Hunters, the Millennium Puzzle, any of it? That he didn't remember - Yugi swallowed at the lump, but it didn't shrink - Yugi?

"My aibou," Yami had affectionately called him several times. Yugi had found it annoying not to be called by name, but… if Yami didn't remember him, then he definitely wasn't the pharaoh's aibou any more.

Yugi continued in a meandering way, until he finally figured out where he was steering himself. "Oh," he said softly. "Of course." And, now with the destination in both mind and body, he turned fully toward the palace, and walked resolutely to it.

There was no gate, simply a mosaic pathway flanked by columns. These were supporting statues of graceful people dressed in long robes, many of them bearing animal heads upon their shoulders, all gazing down, stone eyes set with jewels and seeming to really see. Yugi walked nervously down this avenue, glancing with apprehension up at the gods of Egypt.

Footsteps rang on stone suddenly, and Yugi slid behind one of the columns, remembering with anxiety the soldier yesterday, who had jabbed a sword at him. But instead of a soldier, from a low archway there emerged a boy.

Yugi glanced out at him, felt his eyes become round, and then realized how many times he had gaped at people in the past twenty-four hours. But - the boy, young man really, was of medium height, with light hair that came to his shoulders and lavender eyes, darting about to check that no one was there.

Marik Ishtar? Not another person he knew, how many people _were_ really ancient Egyptians?! This was getting to be beyond crazy, now it was almost stupid….

Marik glanced about himself, then, satisfied that no one was nearby, turned sharply to his right and strode swiftly up a staircase, swinging the door shut behind him, silently. The door nearly closed on his darkly-colored cloak.

Yugi slipped out from behind the pillar, blinking after him. Marik, to his knowledge, was all right - rather insane, but all right underneath - but what was he doing here? Malaise wouldn't have altered _that_ many lives, would she?

He continued down the pathway, but once again he heard someone coming. Irritated, he hid in back of the column again.

Yami stretched quietly as he walked. Shadi had kept him up half the night, insisting that if Yami went to sleep the gods would steal his soul during the night. It was ridiculous, it was exhausting, and it was simply annoying when the priest started singing hymns to ward off evil spirits. The conversations had gone something like this:

"_Sekhmet, lady of healing and love_.

_Watch over our land_.

_For you the people sing_."

"Shadi."

"_The cooling touch of your hand cures all_

_The mightiest of mortals bow to your restoring power_."

"Shadi, I'm not going to die. Siimon drained out the poison -"

"_The greatest of warriors,_

_The vilest of sinners_

_Fall victims to your love, your healing, your gentle spirit_.

_Heal, Lady Sekhmet! Bring relief to the wounded!_

_I praise -_"

"SHADI! STOP SINGING, FOR RA'S SAKE!"

And that was how the night had gone. Yami was hoping he could hide in a corner somewhere, nurse his still-stinging side and even more severely damaged ego, maybe sleep a little, avoid Shadi, and in fact anyone, and just forget that he was the king of Egypt for a while.

"Yami!"

Just keep walking and pretend he didn't hear that.

"_Yami!_"

Resigned, Yami turned in the direction of the voice and said, "Yes?" There was a clatter of feet on stone, and he looked downward. He blinked in surprise at the face peering up at him. Yami was ridiculously small for his age, and he usually looked _up_ at people, not down. It was rather a new experience. "…Yes?"

Yugi looked up at Yami. There was no recognition on his face, no sign of confusion or - or anything. He felt his heart sink somewhere down near his knees. "Um… hi? I just… I mean…." he started, fumbling and feeling somewhat like he was going to cry. What had Malaise _done?_ "I saw you yesterday… and… I just wanted to ask if you were okay…."

Yami gazed down in some bewilderment. The boy speaking to him looked uncannily like his own reflection, or at least what it had looked like when he was a few years younger. And the way he spoke Khemetian was strange, as were the clothes and the light skin. Hadn't Yami seen him the other day? Cautiously, and in a voice so careful and formal he sounded horribly like his own father, he replied, "I'm unhurt, or at least not badly. Thank you for your concern."

Yami never talked to him like that. Yugi winced. "So… you're okay, Yami?"

The pharaoh was pretty confused now. He was very used to being treated like a god, because, after all, that's exactly what he was. All pharaohs were gods, although they became old and died as mortals did. He was used to people addressing him reverently, if not almost cringingly, and having them kiss the ground he walked on (very unsettling) or occasionally reaching out to nearly touch him, but not quite, as though frightened by their own daring to reach out to a deity (disturbing). And now, there was some child, not only failing to address him properly (which was a good thing) but also calling him by his nickname. And with no title before it. Even Bakura and Marik had taken ages to get out of the habit of doing that. Was the boy mocking him? …He wasn't the first.

"I - er -" he stammered.

"Your Highness!"

Oh Gods, didn't Shadi have something _better_ to do? "What?" Yami wheeled away from the boy for the moment and scowled. But the expression changed when he saw Shadi's face. "Shadi? What is it?"

Shadi clamped onto Yami's sleeve and pulled forcefully, nearly knocking Yami off of his feet. "It - he -" the priest gasped, then saved energy for running. He had already sprinted over half the castle to find the king.

Yugi, forgotten for the moment, ran after them. Shadi might not remember him, but he remembered Shadi. And Yami. And they both looked extremely freaked out. So, logically, he should follow them. Right? Right.

Shadi yanked Yami, almost roughly, up to one of the towers. He pointed wordlessly out at the rising sun. Yami squinted. What was Shadi so upset about, there was nothing th- wait.

Something was silhouetted against the sun, dark and flashing in the light. It moved swiftly, high above the ground, almost in the exact center of the half-sphere. It twisted briefly, plummeting down, and at the last moment, rising again. A long line stood out also, thick, going on for almost half a mile across the sun's width.

"What is that?" he asked, but felt a very uneasy feeling begin to rise deep in his stomach.

"They have come back," Shadi said, still breathing hard from the run. He didn't notice Yugi peeking out from behind him, but his hand was gripping Yami's shoulder painfully tight. "Look at how many of them there are. This isn't just some skirmish. They have every man. They have their monsters. They -" he gestured to the large, lithe shape darting in looping circles above the army, " - have the Alabaster Dragon." He swallowed noisily. "They're going to try to take the city all at once."

Yami turned briefly, and said, "Call the men." Then he was no longer in the room, and footsteps were slamming on the staircase, echoing flatly against the marble walls.

Malaise stood, poised in one of the buildings - it was abandoned, of course, so she was safely hidden, and still could see everything. She peered out the window, unwavering, and watched the advancing wall of men. "The Disciples of Yashamaat," she softly said to herself, her voice ringing with irony.

The sight was almost comforting, the familiarity of it - the swooping dragon, Kafit's obviously, for she could see the layer upon layer of shining alabaster-white scales - the Cult-members robed in black, marching effortlessly, made calm and bold by the power of the beast Kafit controlled - the sunrise behind them, a bloody vermilion. In the palace, she knew, Yami would be scrambling around, giving hasty instructions to soldiers, probably banging into a few tables, cursing Kafit and the Cult and everything he could think of.

Those children? The ones she had sent? …They all were fine, although the little one was upset, running back toward the others. Nothing was wrong. Everything was going well; perhaps this time she would succeed.

Malaise stretched her long neck, a small but luxurious moment. She rarely had time for luxuries.

A flash. The vision was there for but a moment, and it was faint and difficult to comprehend, but when she did… A person lying half in, half out of the water, the reflection of flames flickering, a sharp, high note cracking the air… yes, of course, she understood.

Malaise ran through her options in a trice, and chose one carefully. As she raced down the steps, the robe clinging to her ankles, she sought counsel. Yes, this was the best choice, yes, it was all right. Malaise flung open the riddled, half-rotten door and felt the hot rush of air roll over her; for just a few moments she thought she was - no.

Her duty, she must perform her duty. Malaise glanced to one side, at the advancing Cult, and then to the other, at the city, sleeping. She blinked, as close to laughing as she ever came. This city was always sleeping when it was attacked, how comical.

She turned her face toward Nout, the sky-goddess, filled her lungs, and screamed loudly, feeling the rush of air in her mouth. Doors creaked open; armor gleamed far on the other side of the settlement, in the garden of the palace.

"What is it, milady? What's wrong?" several voices rang out.

Feigning terror, Malaise pointed a trembling hand at the army. "They - they've come back - the Dragon - they -"

"_Oh!_" And suddenly pandemonium, people running to and fro, seizing children, seizing weapons, some foolish ones seizing wineskins and squeezing the drink into their mouths, saying, "That's it, we're going to die, I'll just have a spot, then." It was all so familiar. Malaise looked on briefly, satisfied, then silently melted away into the shadows… she was going to have to find those children… she sensed that they were as confused as the mob milling before her….

Bakura stretched from his position on the floor; he must have fallen asleep in the corner again. No wonder Ryou was always teasing him about being a cat, sleeping anywhere small and smooth; he had a sleeping mat and he didn't use it.

He blinked sleepily around the room. Right, those kids he had talked to yesterday, the ones with strange names and clothing… "Hoaumm." He yawned. They were lolled out all over the room.

Some people were missing. Ryou - that wasn't unusual - and the smallest kid, the one whose name he had trouble with - Yugi, right. Him. He wasn't here. Outside, probably. Bakura stretched again, mussed his hair, and slipped the quiver over his shoulder. He should just get it stuck on there, he mused, because he wore it from the moment he got up to the instant he lay down, sometimes sleeping with it on… but whatever, he picked up the small bow as well.

There was a commotion outside. He pushed through the skin. It wasn't a lot of hubbub, but people were outside, whispering together in bunches, glancing over to one side. He tapped someone on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

The old man turned. "There are rumors spreading - some people are saying that the Cult is back."

"Again? So soon? That's not their pattern, they always wait for at least a week -"

The man shrugged. "I didn't start the gossip, I heard it. Hey, kid!" he called to a small boy running around. "Where's your mammy? You get back to her right away, y'hear?"

The boy stuck out his tongue. "You can't make me do nothing," he whined.

"Move it," Bakura ordered the kid, shifting his bow and spinning about, slipping back inside. "Hey, you guys, wake up. Joey? Tea? Everybody, get up! There's a problem!"

Joey raised his head and blinked sleepily. "Wha? Whassa matter, Bakura?"

"Where is your friend?"

"Yug? I dunno." Joey yawned.

"Well, then find out!" Bakura insisted. They all looked at him, surprised. "The Cult is back and of they find him alone -" Bakura thought back to one of his own friends - wandered off at night - gotten lost - Cult found him - discovered two days later, stripped of everything he owned, burnt, sliced deeply, and strung up as a warning. Nearly dead…. "Find him, now!"

Joey wrestled into his shirt, Tristan bolted, and Tea jumped to her feet. "Okay, let's do this logically," she called. "Where would he most likely be?"

His chest hurt, from running and from the Item smacking against it when he bounced up and down. Seemed like the only two things he had done here was run and stare at people.

Yugi swiped at the pale gold hair falling into his eyes and squinted up at the sun. He needed to get back to Bakura's home, and find out if everybody was okay, and they knew about the upcoming fight. And - he didn't want to be near the palace any more. Yami was his protector, his dark side with a light heart - and he didn't recognize him. No, it wasn't that he didn't remember Yugi - it was that Yugi did not exist to him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. If Malaise could change Bakura's life and Marik's life and all these other people, then why would she fix it so that Yami would become a spirit later on?

"Yugi Mutou."

Instant halt, sand spraying. He whipped from one side to the other, then around. Malaise stood in the shadows of an alley, her robe pulled tightly around her and a length of cloth drawn over her face. Yugi glared at her. He'd never wanted to hit anyone in his life - well, very few of them. He wanted to hit Malaise now.

"Yes?" Malaise seemed very slightly amused.

"It's not funny!" he practically shouted. "What did you do; nobody knows who I am anymore!"

Malaise shook her head at his stupidity. "Little boy, your time is 3,000 years yet to come, at least in this layer of time. Who can know who you are? You are not anywhere yet. Your ancestors walk this land."

"Then take me back. Take everything back," he stated. "You said if I didn't like how it was you'd take it all back." Malaise tilted her head and said nothing, only stared. Yugi backed up slightly. "You did say that," he said, quieter. He was feeling more normal now. "You promised."

Malaise now shifted her head back to its regular position. "I said," here she paused for effect, "that if you and the pharaoh were not pleased, I would return you."

Yugi blinked. "But - but he doesn't remember -"

Malaise allowed herself a very, very small smile. "I know that, little one."

Yugi stood extremely still for a moment… then panicked. "I can't go home?!"

Malaise shrugged. "Of course you can. But the king will most likely not want to leave his land, his people, his battle, to follow an insane little boy into some wild fantasy time." She bowed deeply and said, "Ah, and there will be soldiers running through this street in a few moments. You will want to be long gone by the time they arrive." Then she turned, took several steps into the dark shade, was gone.

Yugi took a few deep breaths. Malaise had tricked him. This was very bad. He was stuck in ancient Egypt, where no one remembered him, his defender was busy and didn't recognize him anyway, and the closest thing he had to someone knowing him was a former classmate with a heck of a lot of arrows and a possibly psychotic brother. He much preferred school.

He had to get back to the others.

Kafit leaned forward, letting adrenaline course through him. The scales underneath his hands were slippery, but the metal bands at his knees and wrists practically hooked into the slick shapes, so he was not afraid of falling. He could feel the thrust, the ripple of muscle in back of him every time the dragon pumped its wings; hear the beast's heavy inhalations and exhalations. The sun, even behind him, blinded his eyes, glaring off the shining scales on the great lizard's pate, made his back uncomfortably hot; the wind, from the fantastic speed, was cold and filled with sand, gritting his eyes and nose.

Yet he was deliriously happy. He was going to fight, he was going to finish what he had started, he was going to be rewarded. He glanced down. The Cult-members - even the tallest of them - seemed like the tiniest of creatures, swathed in black, scurrying like little insects. He laughed. He loved this sensation of power and freedom. Of flying above everything else. He called proudly, "_Prone, ket nekkoio! Ano!_"

Kafit's eyes sought the tall, proud man at the front. He gave a slight, reverent bow of his head. That man was the father of them all. The leader of the Cult. The reason Kafit had this dragon, this command, this chance at war.

That man was God.

Yami muttered to himself under his breath, about his father not instructing him properly on the art of war; also trying to go through which men were injured and which were all right for battle; if the soldiers had had enough time to replenish their personal stores of magic; and sincerely hoping that the Alabaster Dragon wasn't as strong as he thought it was. At the same time wrestling into a mesh suit, unwinding the bandage from his waist, and trying to recall where his stupid sword was. Why was this so hectic? He wanted an adult to run this place, not him.

Oh goody, another messenger. "My lord!" the man panted, deriving air noisily. "They've reached the outer gates; the guards and archers can't hold them off for very long! We have lost eight men already, from the north side alone!"

"Ow!" Yami jerked his hand back. Yes, the sword was indeed very sharp. He tied the scabbard onto his belt, sucking blood off his fingers. "Thanks. Are the troops ready?" he asked, trying to figure out how to correctly put on a dumb helmet. He shouldn't have let the soldiers go back to their homes last night, stupid, stupid….

"Yes, they're outside -"

He was too young to run a country, dammit! Yami gave up on the helmet and sprinted down the four flights of stairs to the outer doorway. The men were outside - sleepy-eyed, shivering in the cold, and looking scared half out of their wits. Some had horses; most did not. Siimon had brought out Yami's horse already; he mounted quickly and glanced at the men. They were lined up, straight and rigid. Most village boys, only a few actually trained. They would fight anyway.

He didn't want any of them to die.

Then again, he didn't want to be assassinated and have his land ruled by the Yashamaat, either.

Yami took a deep breath. "All right," he said, addressing the men, "I know that we aren't prepared for this. But this battle is going to win the war. For either side. So we have to win," he said, now fiercely, "understand? This is not for honor, or glory, or duty, or any of that, when you get down to it. This is just so you can go home at night without the fear that your wives and children are going to be dead or worse." Some of the soldiers shifted, recalling the past. Some of them had experienced just that. "We will split into three groups. Wedjiir, you take them - Th'amuren, you take those - and you men, you come with me. Th'amuren, go through the east gate; Wedjiir, the west. I will take my force directly through the main gates. Fine?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, my lord."

Yami watched them for a moment, making sure they were leading their forces correctly, then motioned to the largest group of men to follow him. They all did so instantly, without another thought - because he was their god.

Right. A god who was secretly scared so bad he couldn't even grip his reins. He kicked for the horse to go forward. For the love of Ra, he wished they didn't need him to do this.

* * *

A/N: Kafit's little speech translates into something like: "Come, my friends! Attack!" It's a language I made up in seventh grade, so it's pretty simplistic, butI ike using it for the Yashamaat's speeches. It's supposed to be Syrian. ::swetadrop:: 

Please read and review!


	7. Chapter 6: Havoc

A/N: Hello, all (or, well, the two of you). Sorry for the two-week hiatus - Thanksgiving was hectic, and last weekend I was smashed by a truckload of homework. But it's all good now! D

So then, this is the chappie where bad things start happening... Battles and magic and some confusing bits, but I'll try to explain anything that I ddn't communicate well. :) These chapters were all written quite some time ago, keep in mind, so there my be some inconsistancies. I'm sorry in advance. ::bow::

So once again, thank you to Arion Girl and dragonlady222, for reviewing almost every time. '''''''' I'm honored that you keep returning.

Okay, let's go!

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Chapter Six: Havoc 

Joey peered behind a barrel. "Yug?" he called, turning and glancing through a window. Somebody screeched at him - a girl - and a length of cloth was slapped over it. "Yugi?" He checked an alley. He was glad it was empty. Bakura had been so freaked out that Yugi was missing, Joey didn't especially want to think about why. "Hellooooooooo. C'mon out, man."

A child squirmed out of a stuck door, stumbled, and fell over onto Joey's feet. He blinked down. "Hey, kid. Whassa matter?"

The boy grinned. "My sister says that there's gonna be a big fight! An' I wanna see it!"

"A fight? Why do you wanna see something like that?"

The kid sat up and pouted. "Cause it's cool."

Joey smirked. "Yeah, you think you're gonna be six for your whole life, huh?"

The boy blinked. "Yeah. Aren't I?"

"Nope. An' people die in battle, kid. Is your dad fighting?"

"Yeah!"

"He might not come back, y'know." Joey had no idea why he was talking this way.

The boy scowled up at the towering, pale teenager. "You shut up. My daddy isn't gonna die. You can't die if you're a dad."

Joey shook his head. "Whateva. Anyway, short stuff, I'm looking for somebody. A kid, a little younger than me. 'Bout your height."

"Does he look weird like you?"

"…Um, okay, yeh…."

The boy pointed. "That way. In the town square. He was running, and a lady stopped him. Then she walked away and he started walking real fast." His eyes expanded considerably. "And then practically the whole army went through the square! And you know who was there? You know who I saw? Wanna know? You won't believe it!"

"Jhakal!" a young woman called, looking out the doorway. "Jhakal, get back in here. Mama said not to leave the house."

"'Kay sis," Jhakal said flippantly. Then, addressing Joey, he announced proudly, "I saw the pharaoh! And he was even younger than everybody says! Almost _nobody_ gets to see him if they're not royal or something, an' I did!" The woman - girl actually - hurried out and firmly grabbed the boy by the wrist, yanking him back inside.

Joey turned in the direction Jhakal had pointed and started jogging.

The first thought that came to his mind was that the thing was huge.

The second was that they were all going to die.

Charging straight through the front gate had not been a smart maneuver. With the entire rank, it might have been easier, but not with just a third of them. And, with the entire opposing army in front of them, swelled with Shadow Spirits and crowned by that… thing… some of the men were beginning to wonder if they should surrender.

Yami got one short look at the dragon's flashing underbelly: the bright, polished-looking scales; the icy white color of the reptilian skin - before everything was suddenly filled with intense heat and roaring sound and something very hard slamming into his back.

Dark splotches appeared in his vision; he was up before they faded. There was another surge of hot electricity, and he was hugging the ground again. Then he sensed his own men beginning to run forward, and also the Cult advancing.

It was instinct by now: a quick slice across his hand, a rapid pulling sensation, a mental heave, and instantly a violet sorcerer hovered above Yami, ready and eager for action.

He wiped sand out of his mouth and yanked the sword from his hip, diving forward against the men rushing him. Metal met cloth, then flesh, blood, finally bone. Something shattered. A sharp edge dug into his shoulder, directly through the armor. This was life. Beautiful.

Kafit tugged on the dragon's neck to make it turn, swooping low over the battlefield. Two pairs of blue eyes scanned the battlers. It was a good fight so far. The Cult had the upper hand.

There were two groups advancing from either side. So that was why the force had seemed so small, Kafit realized, and urged his dragon forward. There was a swift ripple of the winged body, a wave of static from the neck into the head; lightning exploded from the mouth. Nearly half of one side-troop hit the ground. Some were on fire. Kafit laughed, almost giddy. "_Vil, kna passe! Ke owrc gi Wele Sind!_"

He turned again, momentarily catching sight of his quarry. Instinctively, one hand went to his scabbard; then he hesitated. No, that man was Loyein's prey. He mustn't interfere. "_Bai, sei-shay_…." _Soon, little king_….

"Hey! Did you find him?" Bakura called. Tea nodded, waving, and gestured to her three companions. Yugi was with them. He wasn't hurt. Bakura sighed, relieved. But now, that just meant he had other things to worry about. _Where in gods' names was his brother?_

He didn't have to think long. The building to Bakura's left erupted, the clay melting into a pool of hot pitch. Bakura was thrown heavily to the sand. Barely a finger's-length away from his head, a gigantic claw slashed into the ground. Soil fell like a curtain.

"Bakura!" Somebody had him by the wrist. Lots of people were yelling. He allowed himself to be yanked, stumbling out of the thick cloud. He reached for an arrow. Ryou was the one who had his arm. Where had he come from? Chaos. Soldiers, some draped in black, some fitted with armor. The battle had been pushed back to the city. The Alabaster Dragon was here.

A hand flashed out, a rock curled into the fingers, and smashed him along the back of the head, dropping him hard. But he landed on his shoulder, twisted, and kicked at the attacker's legs. Platisum hair gleamed. He didn't get a look at the face.

Another Cult-member glanced at him, seeming to give him a double-check, then grabbed for his hair. Stupid to keep it long. Ryou laid him flat with his fist. Nobody hurt his brother, not as long as he could still breathe. The Cult soldier twisted up and lunged, hitting Ryou at the waist. Bakura's brother disappeared from his side. "Ryou!"

Bakura grabbed for the scaffolding of the building beside him, scrambling up. He slid onto the flat roof, yanking the bow off of his shoulder and fixing the arrow in it. "Tea! Tristan! Joey!" What was the other one? Damn weird name. "Yugi! Tea! Where are you guys?!" He looked around for the foreigners, or his brother. He just saw swarms of black-robed and Egyptian soldiers, trying to rip each others' throats out. Bakura rose to his knees to see better. "JOEY! YUGI!" Why did he care about them? It wasn't like they were friends with him or anything. "TRISTAN! TEA! RYOU!"

There was a sudden, bright light, acid green, swirled with a dark violet shine. Bakura turned clumsily on his knees and caught a glimpse of an indigo-colored, humanoid Shadow Spirit swinging its thin arm, casting a jet of greenish light at a familiar sorcerer Spirit. The Dark Magician blocked the attack with ease, but then darted down, thrusting its staff at someone Bakura couldn't see. His throat tightened. Yami was in trouble.

Bakura jumped to his feet to aim better, pulled an arrow, pointed it down, closing one eye. Now he could see - there was the pharaoh, right near the middle of everything. Bakura pulled back on the bow….

It seemed to him, later on, that the sound came first - a loud, gurgling scream - and then heat, and then a horrible, hot, stomach-wrenching shockwave. After that came light, and hurt. And then - it seemed like hours before he hit the ground, before he woke up - but it must have been a matter of moments.

Black. Spinning. No pain, yet, but… then numbness. Black.

When he could finally see, the sand was wet and smelled like blood. There was something on top of him. Bakura pushed at it, and the thing rolled heavily away, sand sticking to it. It was cold. It was clothed in black. It was a man.

Bakura scrambled up, then sank back onto the sand with a whimper. He couldn't move his right arm. It hurt. Everything swam. There was something sharp thrust into the soft skin in his hand. It was a shard of his bow.

The sky was dark. How long had he been out for? The sun had just risen when he last remembered….

Using the wall of the destroyed building next to him, Bakura very slowly got to his feet. "Ryou?" he called, in a tiny voice he hadn't used for ages. His brother always came when he called like that. His big brother always came when he had nightmares, when someone had hit him, when anything… where was he now? Bakura needed him _now_. "Ryou?" Bakura started limping. He couldn't go three steps without treading on a person. None of them moved. "Ryou!"

The temple loomed ahead. He could see the crown of Osiris carved into the stone wall, painted white. It shone in the moonlight. The pillars supporting the roof moaned. He stumbled into the building. The statue, cut so gracefully from pure marble, was cracked. There were symbols carved into it, jeering words. Bakura sat down unsteadily in front of the desecrated god.

"Where is my brother?" he asked in a small, small voice.

"I'm over here."

Bakura jumped and twisted painfully around. "Ryou! You're okay! That - whatever it was - you're not hurt?"

"No." Ryou tossed his hair and stared oddly at him from his seat on a tipped-over miniature statue. He was blanketed in shadows. "It was Kafit's dragon, you know."

"Th - that attacked? But - everyone -"

"They're dead." Ryou stood up and stretched. A metallic object gleamed in his hand, catching the moonlight. "They're all dead. The king. The soldiers. Kafit as well. The Cult-Master killed him."

Bakura thought, for a moment, that Ryou's voice sounded strange, his eyes too blank. Their color was off, too green to be his brother's eyes. "So… is the Cult dead too?" he asked uncertainly, standing shakily up and hobbling nearer to his brother.

Ryou smiled. He raised the object to his mouth and licked it. It had a dark red cast over the smooth metal. "No," he said after a moment, pulling up the black hood of his cloak. "We're all fine." He tightened his grip on the broken arrow shaft and started forward, cupping one hand over the side of his little brother's face. His grip tightened painfully. "Just fine."

* * *

::is attacked by hordes or angry fangirls:: NUU, I didn't kill them! Well, yes I did, but it'll all be okay! You'll see! I promise I don't even do that cheap "oh, we'll brign them back to life"-type of thing so common in character death stories!

Yes, Ryou was "evil". But why did his eyes change color? And how could he kill his little brother? And what happened to Yugi and the others::gasp:: Next chapter is where it starts getting weird, so please bear with me... "Consequence" may turn out excellent because of the strangeness, or may simply crash and burn. ::determined gleam:: But I shall try!!!

Kafit's speech basically translates to "Haha, burn, ya bitches". No, not really, but that's the gist of it. And I have to run now, so I'm sorry! Bye! review::Disappears in a puff of smoke::


	8. Chapter 7: Transition

A/N: Happy holidays, everyb- all of - ...you two. ::sweatdrop:: Yo, what's up? I am back, sorry for missing last week's update. :) But I am not dead, go me.

This chapter is... a little different from the last few. For one, we are not in ancient Egypt any more (though we shall return!). Where are we? Well... you'll just have to wait and see. :) This is, well, a transition chapter (isn't that ironic ::points to title::), so not a lot happens, unfortunately. But the action shall be back soon enough. However, it is from here on that things get more complicated. So, apologies and much love, and have a good read! Please R&R.

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Chapter Six: Transition 

Seto poked at the figure lying in the sand with the end of his stick. He could see the person breathing; good, at least they weren't dead. He cocked his head warily and edged closer, then began shaking the person with his hand. Nothing.

He turned the small figure over; a gleam of gold at the boy's throat caught his eye. He considered it for a moment, then shook his head and resumed shaking the boy. "Hey. Hey there. Wake up." There was no response, save for a slight groan.

Seto sighed, removed his waterskin, and poured several precious drops of water onto the boy's face. The large eyes flickered and opened, a startling purple color. Seto sat back on his heels and helped the boy sit up. "You all right, kid?" he asked, noting the odd material in the clothing.

"What?" The boy looked dazed, looking around. "Kaiba? What the heck… where are we? Why aren't I in Egypt anymore?"

Seto pulled the boy to his feet. "How long have you been out here? I think you have a touch of sun-fever." He dusted the shirt and pants off. "We're not in any Eee-jipt, I can tell you that. This is Moreidiac. Remember?"

Yugi shook his head. "Huh? No - this is Domino, if you're here."

Seto sighed and took the boy's sleeve, tugging him back toward camp, explaining patiently, slowly, "No, this is Moreidiac. You're near the mountains. Are you from a different camp?"

"A different… what? Where are Joey and everybody?"

"I don't -" Seto stopped and shook his head. "Look, you - who are you?"

"Yugi. You know that."

"Yeah, whatever. Yugi. Right. Listen Yugi, there's no telling how long you've been lying there, you're probably dehydrated, you're talking nonsense. Just settle down until I can get you something to drink, okay?"

Yugi protested. It didn't matter. Seto finally told him to be quiet or he'd carry him back to camp, did he want that? and yanked him faster.

Yugi soon was worn out. It was tough walking through the sand. This place seemed, if possible, even hotter and sparser than Egypt had been. He wondered vaguely how Kaiba was here, because this definitely wasn't home. He was beginning to stumble when Kaiba - or non-Kaiba - said, "There it is. Come on."

Yugi looked up and squinted. He hadn't really expected a camp, not for the great Kaiba, but that's exactly what it was: a large cluster of big beige-colored tents lined up, with people milling around them, toting water. It was set up at the base of a huge reddish mountain, and a colossal cloud of dust was rising from the stone. Miners? People with pickaxes and shovels, anyway.

"Kaiba, where is this?"

Seto rolled his eyes. "All right, look: this is Rithoun, a miners' camp, third class. And my name isn't Kaiba. It's Seto."

"But it's your last name," Yugi pointed out softly. The sun was beginning to make his head hurt. Where were the others?

Now Seto seemed annoyed. "I don't have a last name, kid. Oh, hey. Solomon! Hey!" And he waved to one of the far-away figures, pulling Yugi down the incline, not giving him time to process that info.

A dusty man stood up, clapping Seto over the shoulders as they drew near. He shook the spiky gray hair from his eyes and squirted some water into his mouth from his waterskin. Wiping his mouth, he eyed Yugi, not in an unfriendly way, but…. "Who's this, Seto?"

"Yugi. I found him out on the plains." Kaiba pushed Yugi gently forward. "He's talking oddly. I think he needs water. But he says that there were others with him, anyway, and that'sprobably true. I'm going to go look." Addressing Yugi, Seto explained, "This is Solomon. He's one of the Elders. Don't worry, he looks tougher than he really is." Solomon harrumphed.

Yugi stared up at Solomon, blinking rapidly. Solomon imitated him. "Grandpa!"

"Eh?" Solomon scratched his short beard. "…You do need water." He handed Yugi his waterskin, but Yugi didn't drink.

He insisted, "Grandpa! It's me! Yugi! You know me! I'm your grandson!"

Solomon shook his head and turned back to his work, hefting a large pickaxe and swinging it down into the rock. Examining a chunk of stone, he replied, "I don't have any grandchildren, or children for that matter. You're mistaken. I'm sorry."

Yugi felt extremely helpless and frustrated, like he wanted to hit the man in front of him, or scream at the sky, or something else out of character. He settled for grabbing Solomon's shoulder and half-spinning him. "Grandpa, listen to me! I - I don't know what's going on here - but please, just try to remember me!" Maybe Malaise hadn't really done anything except make it so that he didn't exist. Wouldn't that be lovely.

Solomon was removing his hand.

"_Listen_ to me!"

"Who is that?"

Yugi jumped. The new voice had been scratchy and hoarse, and very old. He looked around. His eyes fell on the nearest tent, only a few yards away. The voice seemed to have come from that direction. Letting go of Solomon, he started to go in, but a pair of square hands seized his shoulders.

"What are you doing?!" Solomon exclaimed. "That's Shadowwalker's tent. _Never_ go in there!"

"Why not -"

"No, Solomon," the voice came again. It was stronger than it had first seemed. "Is he someone new? Bring him in. I want to see him."

"But -" the gray-haired man began, then sighed and pushed Yugi through the tent flap, not unkindly, following after him.

Yugi's eyes and nose instantly objected to the strange light and smell of the tent. The only lighting was of tiny lanterns and with the glowing ends of incense, which perfumed the air heavily. It took a moment to adjust, then he could make out what appeared to be a bundle of cloth on the floor.

The bundle moved. Yugi yelped. It was a person.

A thin, almost skeletal hand came into view, followed by a scarred arm, the skin lined and wrinkled with ancient years. A wizened, triangular face then emerged, but the top half of it was securely bound in cloth. Yugi could make out the beginnings of a long, ugly scar peering from behind the bandanna, cutting upwards toward the old man's eyes.

Solomon knelt and gently helped the old, old man raise himself slightly from the mat on which he lay, detangling the heavy robe. The ancient man painfully sat upright, bones crackling. His hands reached out blind, but found their way easily to Yugi's face, exploring the mouth and large eyes, the hair and the soft shape of the chin. He nodded, smiling a little.

"Shadowwalker?" Solomon breathed cautiously.

Shadowwalker sighed. "He's fine. He looks a little like you, Solomon." Addressing Yugi, he added, "Your name is… Yugi?"

Feeling strangely calm, Yugi said, "Yes. Yugi Mutou."

Shadowwalker's mouth twitched. "Yes. Mutou. Then you have…." His wrinkled hands felt their way down the chain to the Puzzle, gently rubbing the gold. "Yes… Poor child. You seem very confused."

"I am," Yugi confessed, and Shadowwalker let out a coughing laugh.

"Aren't we all! But Solomon, where is Seto? Didn't he find this boy?"

"Yes, but he said he was going to look for others…."

"Are there others with you, little Mutou boy?"

"Yes. There were." Yugi thought back to the fighting, the terror, the separation from his friends, then the stabs of pain and waking up in the desert. "Their names are Tea, Tristan, Joey, and Ya -" he stopped. "…That's them."

"Ah." Shadowwalker seemed to be about to say more, but began to cough uncontrollably. Solomon fussed, shooing Yugi out (though not before grinning at him) into the sun.

Yugi wandered through the camp, stopping behind the people hacking away at the side of the mountain. He noticed that most were young people, about his or Kaiba's age, with only a few elderly people and several young children. He watched one girl, maybe seven or eight years old, swinging a large pitchfork-like instrument like it was nothing.

He realized he still had the waterskin, and squeezed a stream of water into his mouth. It was gritty and sour. He almost spat it out.

Finally, hot and sweaty and totally exhausted, he sat in the shade of one of the tents. He caught many people giving him curious looks and put his head between his knees, gripping the Puzzle tightly in his hands. The gold was no longer comforting; it was simply another reminder of everything that was now entirely alien.

Yugi caught himself thinking about lemonade. With lots of ice and sugar. And maybe with a hamburger alongside it. Ice cream afterward. He was STARVING. Where was all the food in this place? These people couldn't live here without something to eat.

"Um, excuse me," he tried, going up to the little girl he'd seen before. "Do you know where I can get something to eat?"

Emerald-and-russet eyes bore up at him, hard and soft at the same time. Her eyes were two different colors. "Who're you?"

"I'm Yugi."

"Zanebia." She turned back to her task. "You don't get food just by sitting in the shade, you know."

Yugi started to say something but clamped his mouth shut. "Okay," he finally allowed. "What do I do?"

She shaded her two-colored eyes to glower at him. "Don't be dumb. Take off your shoes and things" - she pointed at his puzzle and jacket - "and get a tool."

"What are we digging for?"

Zanebia shrugged. "We're looking for tombs. Gold, if you're in the right place. Gems. The mummies, is what some groups are after. We're lucky; it's just the other stuff we're supposed to get. No dead bodies."

Yugi went over to the number of large tools lying a little bit away, stepping out of his shoes and removing his shirt. He picked one up. It felt unreasonably heavy and seemed to have traces of salt on it. He went back to Zanebia, hefted it with difficulty, and swung. The blade at the end clanged loudly and made no indentation. However, it did rattle Yugi so much it felt like everything inside him had come loose.

Zanebia laughed. "Here. Hold it like this." She rearranged his hands and then returned to her own work. "And remember, the more you do, the more food you get. So hurry up."

The sun passed much too slowly for Yugi's liking. It was hours before the rays finally slanted downward. Solomon came over and laughed when he saw Yugi. "Tired, boy?"

"Ylah," Yugi said, dropping to the ground and squirting water into his mouth. He didn't care what it tasted like anymore. Solomon swiped the skin from him and swigged.

"Seto should be getting back soon. It'll be dark in an hour," he said. Yugi was busy examining the blisters on his hands. "Maybe he'll have those friends of yours."

"I hope so." Yugi started to get back up, but Zanebia grabbed his tool and tossed it into the pile again.

"You're done. Once you have to stop, don't bother getting back up." She narrowed her sharp, cunning eyes. "You did really well for a beginner. Did they work you hard, back at your own camp?"

"Um… no." He tried to think of a good way of explaining, but gave up. "It was pretty easy."

"Wha'd you _do_ all day?" asked one of the other workers, also quitting and walking over.

"Well, I went to school, mostly."

"What's that?"

Yugi blinked up at the redheaded boy. He couldn't have been older than Yugi. "It's… nothing."

"Hey, I can see Seto!" Zanebia called gaily. She dropped her pitchfork-thing and ran across the sand, kicking up clouds. Yugi swung around eagerly, but saw that Seto was alone. Anxiety welled up inside him. Where were the others? Why weren't they here? They could be hurt - had they been caught back in Egypt? That would really, really suck. What could he do?

Seto wearily picked up Zanebia in one arm. She nestled her golden-brown head underneath his. "I couldn't find anyone," he said immediately to Yugi. "No footprints, no people, nothing at all. Wherever those guys are - three of them, right? - it isn't near here. I even checked closer to the palace."

Solomon flinched. Yugi pressed hastily, "But where else could they be? They were with me, I know they were! They have to be here…."

Seto shrugged. "I don't know. Tell you what, you come with me early tomorrow and we'll both look. You can tell me which direction you came from." He sighed and placed Zanebia back down. "Solomon, did you take him to Shadowwalker?"

"Yes. He's good," the older man said shortly, smiling, then took Yugi by the elbow. "Come along, are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Let's see, you worked for maybe three or four hours, so that would be…." Solomon interrupted himself, going into one of the tents and bustling around for a few moments, and coming back out with a small loaf of flat bread and some sweet-smelling liquid. Yugi took them and hesitantly poured some of the liquid from the jar onto the bread, and began to eat it fast. A large emptiness seemed suddenly to have appeared in his stomach, and he nearly choked trying to fill it up.

"Easy does it," Solomon joked, touching Yugi's bare, sunburned shoulder. "It's not like you've got anyplace to be, do you?"

Later on that night, as Yugi tried to fall asleep inside one of the tents, he began to seriously worry if he was losing his mind. Come on, from Domino to Egypt to - wherever this was - it was like some crazy author's fantasy or something. Yutaan: WAHAHA!

He reached out from underneath the skin he was sleeping beneath and touched the cool sand through the tent flap. It felt grainy and dry, quite real. He turned his head and accidentally got a mouthful of fur. Yuck. It tasted genuine, though.

Yugi whimpered miserably and curled up into a ball, pulling the blanket over his head. He remembered the blank look Solomon had given him when Yugi had said the man was his grandfather. And the same expression Yami and Bakura had had on their faces when he said he knew them. And the way people fought in Egypt, with blood and sweat and screaming, worse than a million gory movies at once. And how his friends were lost. And…. damn, he could just cry. He would, too, except that the other people were bunched together less then ten yards away, sitting in a circle around their fire and talking quietly, sometimes arguing, sometimes singing. They might hear him.

He sniffled and took off his Puzzle, because it was poking into his chest. He didn't feel comfortable taking it off when he wasn't in his own room, in his own bed, with his own grandpa yammering away downstairs at the inevitable midnight customer and with his own yami complaining about Kaiba. But whatever.

Yugi mumbled, "I wanna go home," then turned over and inhaled the musky scent of fur and tried to go to sleep.

* * *

Hmm... I just realized that the last chapter was Chapter Six, not this one... 0.0 Well... Er, I'll edit that after I return from New England. Ja ne!


	9. Chapter 8: Renaissance

A/N: Hi you two, sorry for the two-week break... my bad...

Muse: --poking Yutaan-- I don't believe that you have ever once updated a fic on time.

--sob-- I'm sorry! But here - as a reward, this chapter is extra-long! And it has PLOT. Yay plot! It also hints at things to come - namely, the first section of the chapter, which deals with a mysteeeeerioous group of people who will be important later on. But I won't give it away yet, nuuuuu... you'll have to wait for Part Two for that... after all, right now Yugi is much to lost and puppy-eyed to leave all by his lonesome.

Speaking fo which... let's go!

* * *

Chapter Seven: Renaissance 

A bell clanged. It echoed emptily over the multitudes, drawing itself out until it was thin and cracked. When it faded, there were rustling sounds, that of hundreds of people, dark-cloaked and faces covered, sinking to the floor, bowing their heads so deeply that their hidden mouths kissed the floor. Not a single sliver of skin showed; no one dared breathe out of place; all eyes were locked on the stone tiles.

Yet, as cold as the enormous room was, the ceiling so high one couldn't see it, as weirdly as the candle-flames flickered and the incense steadily smoldered, as chilled and lifeless as one would expect the room to be, there was an essence of joy somewhere. You could see it in the bend of the arms and legs, in the arched backs, and hear it in the words the people whispered, foreign but clear.

A sudden shower of light erupted from the glassy pool in the center of the room, throwing droplets of water high into the air. They froze there, still and silent in a huge fan of water, shining in the dim light. Then they fell like soft rain; the people raising their faces to it, removing the coverings from their faces and catching it on their tongues and eyelashes.

The people drank from the air, feeling the goddess's hands on their cheeks and cold lips, and her kiss on their foreheads; they let the water slide down inside of them and fill them with a cool, flowing contentment.

One woman began to sing, wordless melodies draping the air. Others joined her, yet her song was the clearest and most beautiful of any of them. The message was simple, and the water rippled in the air to hear it:

"_Tefenet, goddess of dew and rain… we thank thee_."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"Yugi, wake up."

"I don't wanna go to school. Mmf."

Seto whacked Yugi across the top of the head; the smaller boy sprang up. "Ha, thought that'd do it. They must really let you sleep in where you're from."

Yugi rubbed his eyes, trying to get a sense of reality back. He reached for his Puzzle, but was too sore to put it on. He glanced outside and moaned. "Seto, are you crazy? It's still dark out." He pulled the blanket back up against the surprisingly cold air.

The older boy yanked it away. "Of course it's dark. We can't go wandering all over in the sun. I almost passed out from yesterday, walking around in the heat like that. Now come on, if we want to look for your friends we have to do it before sunrise. By that time we'll have to head back."

"Okay, okay…." Yugi sat up and scratched his head and yawned. He was hungry again. "When do we eat, Kaib - Seto?"

"In the middle of the day." Seto tossed back his brown hair and pulled Yugi up by his wrist. "Let's go." He bullied Yugi into his clothes and out through the tent flap, into the cold air, over the sand dunes. Yugi glanced around.

"Suppose we get lost?"

"Just look for our mountain. Or the palace, it isn't far," Seto said easily, loping along cross the sand as if he'd been living here his whole life. "We just gotta watch out for the Shadow-Beasts."

Yugi stopped dead. "The what?"

"Shadow-Beasts. Oh, you know - the things that come out of the Shadow Realm? Like sorcerers, and monsters? Big animals. Things like that. They're dangerous."

Yugi stared ahead for a moment, looking for any signs of a person. There were none. "YOU MEAN MY FRIENDS COULD'VE BEEN _EATEN?!_"

"Not if they're halfway competent fighters."

"They're _not!_ We all _suck_ at fighting! Except maybe Joey."

"Too bad for you guys. I wish I'd been at your camp, sounds easy."

Yugi ran after Seto, jogging to keep up with the long strides. After a short while, he said, "Seto… I want you to listen to me. And I know that it'll seem crazy, but just hear me out, okay?"

"Sure." Seto scanned the horizon with dark blue eyes.

"Okay. I think I'm from the future, or some kind of different future with the same people, or some of the same people, and where there are people inside of different items and things, but something happened to change that when… wait, where I live in a place where _you_ live and -" Yugi stopped. He was confusing himself. "Okay, see, there was this lady, who said she would help a spirit- no, wait - a friend of mine go home, and he was from ancient, Egypt, see, except that he lost his memory and then he got stuck inside my necklace - no, my game - no, the present my Grandpa gave me, and that's Solomon - I mean he's my grandpa - Solomon, not my friend - I mean, uh -" Yugi had thoroughly bewildered both of them. Seto was staring at him and giving little shuffles of his feet to put distance between them. "Uh, right - how's this… I remember you from my own life, but something seems to have happened to screw me up. So, _I _think you're the CEO of KaibaCorp and a jealous kickass duelist who really loves his little brother. What do _you_ think you are?"

There was a long silence. Yugi glanced over and stopped in alarm.

Seto's entire face had gone pale, and his body had stiffened. His eyes had glazed over and he was staring at Yugi as though he were a ghost. He couldn't speak for several moments, then finally got out, "How do you know about my little brother?"

"I -" Yugi tried to sort it out. "Um - well, how I remember it, your brother tagged along after you a lot. And he was… energetic… and talkative… his name's Mokuba."

Seto gave a start. "Mokuba," he said softly, and sat down on the ground, knuckles to his forehead. He spoke slowly. "Yes… that was his name…."

"Was?"

"He's dead, Yugi. He died when he was three years old. The Cult killed him."

"The -" _Ping_, went Yugi's brain. "The Cult? You mean the Yashamaat? They still exist?! You mean they're still around?!"

"Of course." Seto looked up. He didn't seem to be looking at Yugi, though. "Yugi, I remember it - I remember women screaming, and it was so hot… so much smoke and fire… I couldn't breathe… Mokuba was holding onto one of my hands, and my mother was holding the other… and then there was fire everywhere, on top of me even… everything was burning…." Seto looked down again. "I don't really know what happened afterwards… just that I woke up tied next to Solomon, and he said it was okay, and that everything was going to be fine. And when I asked where my mom and brother were, he stopped for a minute… and then he said… that they were dead."

"But…." Yugi looked down at the hunched person in front of him, head bowed, shoulders quivering. _This_ was Seto Kaiba? "Why was your home being burned? What did you do wrong?"

Seto took a deep breath and looked up, swatting the hair out of his face. His eyes were still glassy. "Because we were the Resistance."

Yugi looked confused.

"We - my village - we were the last community free from the Yashamaat." He looked down again. After a moment, he gave a short laugh. "Yeah, look at me… worrying about things that happened years and years ago…." He stood up briskly, slapped his hands together, and said, "We have to find your friends, huh? Let's go… they probably would've headed away from the sun, so that'd be," he jerked his thumb, "in that direction." He sniffed. Started walking. Yugi hurried after, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

"So, what do they look like? Males or females? C'mon, details," Seto said. Yugi noted the catch in his voice and started babbling like an idiot.

"Tea's a girl, pretty tall, with long legs and straight brown hair cut short and she has big blue eyes and light skin like mine and she's wearing a pink vest but she might have taken it off so under that is a white shirt and a blue skirt and she's really sweet but she has a temper so watch out if she slaps you; Joey's a guy, and he's skinny and has blonde hair and he probably won't be too happy to see you so let me calm him down when we find him…." and all that crap. Seto said "yeah" and "Uh-huh" a few times, but Yugi knew that he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to everyone's descriptions.

They seemed to have been walking for hours when Seto abruptly glanced over to the east and said, "We'll have to turn around. We're already going to be walking in the sun; you'll get even more burned as it is." He made an about-face and started back in the direction they had just come. Yugi sighed and gazed unhappily over the smooth, unmarred sand, swept clean by wind.

Except for over there….

Yugi forgot about Seto and ran as fast as he could over the sandy hills, coming to a halt at the churned spot. He could see footprints! Sneaker footprints! "SETO! I found something!" Seto was beside him in an instant. "Look, they were here!"

Seto frowned. "That's strange… the wind should have brushed these away. They've been here too long for anything else."

"How long ago?"

"Maybe yesterday afternoon. From the looks of it -" he gestured to the different-sized prints. "- They were all together. C'mon, we better follow these; they'll be half-dead by now." So saying, he started in pursuit. Yugi happily trotted after him.

Finally! His friends would be okay, and maybe they could help him convince Solomon he wasn't crazy, and of course Zanebia would be glad for new helpers, and Joey would never believe that Kaiba was now - Yugi chuckled - _nice_. He wished he'd brought some water, they'd be thirsty.

Seto's brow furrowed the more he followed the trail, though. "Yugi, this can't be right… Listen, stay here for a second, I'm going to go off for a bit."

"Why?" Yugi asked, but was enjoying his balloon-like feeling of happiness too much to argue. Seto didn't answer, but hurried off to the side. Yugi could see him looking around on the ground for something, sweeping at the sand with his hands, going in wider and wider circles and getting smaller the farther away he went.

Seto dug away with his fingernails. The sand was soft and too warm for early morning. And it was too loosely packed - his fingers scraped against something. He dug it out; it glinted in the sun. It was a small silver trinket, carved into a round shape and with _opale qur gi_ _Aat_ inscribed into it. He closed his hand over it and angrily tossed it away. Brushing more sand away, he found what he was looking for: the sets of hoof-prints pressed into the packed sand, with earth sprinkled over them; so that was why there had been no wind to sweep away the footprints, the Cult had been using it all to cover their tracks….

Seto bolted up and returned to the trail, grabbing Yugi by the arm and dragging him along behind.

"Seto?! What's wrong?" Yugi exclaimed, jarred out of his good mood.

"They were being tracked by the Yashamaat," Seto panted. "I found tracks; they're from yesterday. If your friends aren't caught already, they'll be soon - we have to find them." He spared any more breath for running.

Yugi felt his happy balloon pop. His empty stomach had closed up like a rock. "Will the Cult hurt them?"

Seto barked a laugh. "Tell you what, if they're still alive, I'll personally take on the Cult myself."

"They're DEAD?!"

"Probably. Keep running."

Yugi felt the hot sun on his shoulder blades, and the cold of Seto's hand. The tracks they were following were whipping past his eyes, so fast they looked like thin lines of sand….

They can't kill Joey! I won't let anyone kill them! 

Seto suddenly swore in frustration, let him drop and knelt down, pointing. "Look." The footprints had been completely covered with hoof-prints, and there were several scraps of black cloth. Yugi felt his heart drop into his rocklike stomach.

"What's -?" Seto picked something off the ground and started scrubbing sand off it. Yugi caught a glimpse of pink buttons and a small screen. He snatched it.

"This is Tea's! It's her cell phone. She dropped it."

Seto didn't bother to ask what a cell phone was. The kid looked like he had just found his friends shot full of arrows. He patted his back awkwardly. "Ah… look… they could be fine… we're just jumping to conclusions…."

Yugi raised his face. It was wet. "B - But you said… that they…."

"To _verson_ with what I said," Seto interrupted fiercely. "Just keep believing they're all right. Don't give a crap what I said." He jerked Yugi to his feet. "We're going back to camp. We're going to talk to Shadowwalker." With that, they started back, the sun slicing onto the sides of their faces. Seto noted that Yugi was clutching the phone-thing like it was some priceless relic.

He slid one hand inside of his tunic and formed a fist around the little amber stone his brother had given him. He closed his eyes and remembered that awful night: the almost-sweet smell of burning wood, the shrieking as buildings collapsed… how he had thought that everything seemed so planned, executed in perfect control… the way he had cried for hours all through the night, as the Yashamaat led the long line of prisoners over the desert… and how he had promised that nobody would ever be killed by the Cult again.

Yeah right, THAT sure had worked.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"So the Cult had already found them?" Solomon asked. The two had come back in a bad way: Seto had looked like he was ready to attack something, and Yugi looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"Yeah." Seto slammed a pickaxe so hard into the wall of stone that cracks spread from it a meter out in all directions. He examined the small chunk of pyrite he'd unearthed and smashed it again. "The kid needs food and water; don't make him work, okay? And I have to talk to Shadowwalker if he's strong enough today."

"You want to ask him if he can see them?"

"Yeah. If anybody could find them, it'd be Shadowwalker." Seto glanced at Zanebia, digging a little bit away. "But what if they're already… what'll we do with Yugi? Keep him here? You know, I don't think he's nuts."

"Why not, what do you think instead?" Solomon sifted through the small chunks of rock with his fingers.

"I don't know. But he knew about… my… my brother. His name. The way he acted. Solomon, I don't know what it is about him, but… he might be like Shadowwalker, do you think?" Seto wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

"That'd be a direct miracle, Seto. I don't think anybody can be like Shadowwalker."

"I have to see him."

"…Hey, do you think this stuff is real gold?"

"Hah! Who cares?"

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Yugi traced the shapes of the buttons on the phone. For a second, he almost felt like heaving it away, out of the tent, but didn't. Suddenly inspired, he dialed his home number. There was a long silence. Nothing. Of course, his home didn't exist.

Yugi rubbed his thumb over the front of the Puzzle, then broke off one of the pieces, the biggest one. The Eye of Horus glared at him mockingly. It almost looked like it was real, like the pupil wasn't made of gold at all. It seemed to follow him. He jammed it back in.

Yugi sighed, then, feeling like an idiot, tentatively reached out his mind, touching the faint consciousness the Item possessed. _"Yami?"_ he asked in his head. _"Are you in there?" _Once again, silence, and then a little shove at his mind, like the Puzzle was closing a hand around it and pushing. He muttered and tossed the Puzzle back down. "Dumb thing. I need help here!" he proclaimed shrilly. The gold gleamed innocently up. "Fine." He crawled backwards out of the tent. "I'm going to… do something," he said lamely.

His stomach didn't even hurt for food anymore. As he walked over to the workers, hacking away at the mountain, he found himself imagining a scene: three people walking, limping along slowly, and suddenly there's a thundering sound, a huge cloud of dust, and a huge battalion gallops towards them, riders' black cloaks swirling in the wind. The three people start to run, but the men shoot them full of arrows and drag them off. The end.

Ack. He needed something to do.

Yugi didn't even ask Zanebia anything. He grabbed a tool from the stash and started beating away at the rock like it was pebbles. Why the heck were they looking for tombs, there were NO TOMBS HERE!

Joey. Bang, he hit the rock. Tristan. Bang. Tea. Bang. Bakura. Bang. Yami. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang…. He settled into a rhythm. This was good work for being mindless. You couldn't think when you were attacking chunks of stone.

Zanebia scrutinized him with bright eyes, one green, one brown. "You know, if you keep at it like that, you'll exhaust yourself before an hour's over," she said.

"I don't care," Yugi gruntingly replied, swinging his axe. The phone pressed against his waist, where he'd stashed it underneath his belt. He fingered it occasionally, as his body became more and more tired.

He began to feel empty. Maybe a little better. Maybe he'd rest soon.

Maybe he'd go over and sit by Shadowwalker's tent, it had the most shade.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Seto drew back the tent flap. "Shadowwalker?" he called softly. "Are you here?"

"Yes, Seto. Come in." The old man turned to the sound of his voice. The bandana was untied, and Seto could clearly see the long, whiteish cut running from Shadow-walker's cheek, across his eyes, and all the way to the top of his forehead. With it off, he looked younger, the gray-streaked black hair still thick, with the lines of age no longer so prominent. _He looks - hardly older then me_, Seto realized with a start.

"You seem -" Seto blurted, then paused, blushing, "- younger."

Shadowwalker laughed, still an old man's laugh, and ran his wrinkled hands over his cheeks. "Why thank you. Now, you came to se me about those companions of the little Mutou boy?"

"Yes," Seto said, unsurprised. "Are they alive?"

Shadowwalker concentrated, then slowly shook his head. "I cannot tell. Perhaps. I can sense… some sort of conflict over them. Some need for them. I don't believe that they're dead, not at the moment…."

"Where are they? At a camp?"

"…No." Shadowwalker suddenly seemed in pain, closing his blank, disfigured eyes and hunching over, running his fingers down his scar. "They're… with the Yash."

Seto drew breath. "The king?"

"I think so."

Seto sat back on his heels and rubbed his temples. "Then, if they're still all right, they won't be soon." He felt horrible. Really, he did. He couldn't imagine any worse place to be than with the leader of the Yashamaat. "So… what do we do?" Seto answered his own question, "Pray."

Shadowwalker scoffed. "I wholeheartedly agree with you – but it's also best to have a plan."

"Yes… maybe I could go scout out the palace…?"

Shadowwalker laughed chokingly. "Trust me - it's not worth the trouble. But, what shall we do?"

"…I have no idea." Seto rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose I can try to get counsel with the king or something… try to see if I can find them…." He sighed. "And Yugi… what do we do with him?"

"He'll be all right here," Shadowwalker counseled. "We can take care of him. He'll be fine as long as we tell people that he's just from this camp."

"Think they'll believe that?"

"Why shouldn't they?"

"All right." Seto got up and bowed. "Thanks. I'll go find him." He left.

Shadowwalker waited for a moment, then turned his blank face and said softly, "You can come in, you know."

Yugi crawled in through the tent flap. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop -"

"That's all right." Shadowwalker lay back down with a groan. "Tell me, why are you in here?"

"I wanted to ask you… if you think I can go home?"

Shadowwalker's blind, slate-blue eyes rested on him. A bony hand waved around in a hopeless sort of gesture. "Little Mutou boy," he murmured, "what makes you think I know where you come from at all?"

"I don't know. But I think you do." Yugi waited; Shadowwalker said nothing. The flickering candles formed strange shadows on the insides of the tent, making Shadow-walker's silhouette seem looming, and dark. "Can you help me?"

"I don't think so. Not right now." Shadowwalker turned over with a loud snap, the old, fragile body looking tired. "You have to be specific if you want me to see anything," the old man said, his voice dry and breezy as a desert zephyr. "Otherwise I have no idea what you're talking about. After all… I'm… not a mind reader…."

Yugi frowned. He'd heard that before, where? "Shadowwalker?" he said quietly, but there were only the sounds of sleep. Yugi silently got up and walked out of the tent. The sun smacked him in the face.

He took deep mouthfuls of hot air and went to find Solomon. He wanted to work some more.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hummh?" Yugi blinked around at the darkness. There was a soft, warm weight on him… what was that? He untangled himself from the sleeping skin and sat up gingerly. Zanebia was fast asleep on his stomach. He smiled. Aww, weren't little kids so cute? Especially when they were worn out with working all day and then you raced with them until they fell asleep nearly anywhere.

He carefully lay back down, so he wouldn't wake her up, and looked lazily out into the camp. He could see the older folks gathered around the fire, like yesterday, conversing with each other. He caught his name a few times, and realized they were talking about what to do with him. He could see Seto's off-white tunic, stained golden with firelight, and Shadowwalker's wrapped face.

Yugi listened harder, and could make out snatches of the conversation.

"I say he stays here… good worker…."

"Do you know what will happen if… illegally? The Yash will have… heads on... platter…."

"Oh, he's nice enough… shy though. Where… friends of his?"

"They… found by the Cult. They're at the palace."

"Well, too bad… that. But if Yash finds him… kill all of us, and those three too -"

"No, he won't."

Everyone jumped, including Yugi, making Zanebia mumble in protest. Shadowwalker had stood up quickly, so quickly he'd lost his balance. "No, he won't," Shadowwalker repeated. "Not until he gets what he wants. He wouldn't dare kill them.… I _know_ what he would do…." He sat back down on his knees, and began rocking back and forth very slowly.

The people around him leaned forward to help. "Shadowwalker, are you al-" The old man jerked suddenly, falling onto his side, and began to twitch violently. Hands darted down, but before they touched him, he screamed - high, shrill, a strange wordless sound. Then he was on his knees again, staring into the darkness, his hands fluttering toward the fire. The cloth slipped down to the man's chin. Images danced in the blank eyes like they were windows to another place.

There was a loud hissing sound, like water being poured on a flame, and then the fire - flickering yellow and red - turned a bright, vivid white. It spit out small sparks, but when they landed on people, they didn't seem to burn.

Yugi wriggled out from underneath Zanebia and slid belly-down closer to the fire. The light was harsh and glaring, but it wasn't hot. He could get close to the circle of people, outlined in black by the fire. He felt Seto grab him gently by the lapel and pull him into the group.

"Shadowwalker's tales," he whispered with awe in his voice. "I didn't think I'd live long enough to hear one of these."

"I didn't think I'd live long enough to hear two, ehh," Solomon said into Yugi's other ear.

* * *

A/N: And so now we know something of Shadowwalker's strange nature, of about how the world has turned out with the Yashamaat as the rulers. --does a happy dance-- I love revealing plot. It feels lovely. 

About Seto - yes, he's rather OOC, but a huge idea of "Consequence" is examining how a situation would have changed if a certain decision had been made, or if a certain person had never met another - almost anything, really. This idea will become more prominent later, but for now, it's mostly being applied to this situation. Seto didn't grow up under the rule of his stepfather in this new world, alone; he grew up in a way that showed him that everyone around him shared that same pain. I could only assume that would make him different than how we normally know him. --smile-- But feel free to bash if you think I was abusing the character.

"Opale qur gi Aat" means "life/live for the God" and is a verse froma standard prayer to the Cult-master; "verson" means "hell".

Thank you for reading, please review! Critique is welcome as well. --happy dance--


	10. Chapter 9: Comprehension

Thank you for reviewing, Protector of the Pharaoh and dragonlady222::hug:: Reviews make me happeh! And they ensure that, yes, I do still have more reviews than chapters. That is always an ego-booster. Nice guess, dragonlady - taking that path would have been quite an interesting writing challenge! But Yami's not the king of this strange timeline. We'll learn who it is in this chapter. ::tries to look sly:: Heeeeeeheehee.

Ah, and it is during this chapter that the page-count for "Consequence" passes the 100-page mark. Yayyyyyy.

This chappie has lots of bloooooooooood. Be warned.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Comprehension

Shadowwalker kept rocking, but as he did, he began to speak. All the old-man stutters and creaks had disappeared, and suddenly it seemed as though there was a young man sitting in front of them, telling them a story. Shadowwalker's face, as long as it was half-covered with the cloth and lit by the supernatural light, seemed youthful.

"Seven Items in all…."

Yugi started in shock.

"Each with a required balance between darkness and light… and each with great power…." Even though his blind eyes were covered, Shadowwalker seemed to be looking straight at Yugi. "Seven: the Ring, the Rod, the Scale, the Ankh, the Eye, the Tauk, and… the Puzzle. Beautiful. Precious. Made of gold, fit for kings and gods.

"They possessed magic, the type which people had never known… as these Millennium Items grew older, and were passed down from generation to generation in Egypt, legend became mixed with fact… how they could be used to summon terrible beasts… how they burned anyone who touched them, besides their true masters… how they could restore life to one long dead…. No one could know what was real and what was not anymore.

"In order to understand the future, you must first understand the past….

"There was a man, named Adome Loyein. He was a madman. A demon, some said, disguised as a human. And he wanted the Millennium Items. No one in Egypt knew why, so they invented rumors. None of his followers cared why, because that man seemed to have the power of the gods themselves. They worshipped him. Followed his insane plans. Loyein and his disciples left their own land of Syria to attack the great kingdom of Egypt, acquire these Items, and bring the land under their control."

Yugi suddenly realized where this was going. Egypt, a Cult, the Millennium Items… Shadowwalker was talking about the war that Egypt had been in when he and his friends had gotten there - the one Yami had been fighting against the Yashamaat.

"Twelve years of fighting. Loyein had thousands of followers, most voluntary, some under blackmail, some whose minds were under control. He finally gained control of enough of the Millennium Items' power to summon the _Wele Sind_, the Alabaster Dragon. It was a powerful creature, able to shoot lightning from its throat and tear stone apart with its claws."

The light of the fire suddenly exploded outward, blinding everyone for a moment. When the glare finally receded, Yugi unshielded his eyes and stared at the fire. The white flames had grown higher, and in them he could see images of people, their faces blurred at first, then slowly fading as the flames focused.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was a Blue Eyes White Dragon, twisting in the sky, with blue sparks flying from behind its sharp teeth. There was a rider perched on top of its neck, weaving with the wind. The flames drew in closer to the man; they could make out brown hair, cold blue eyes, like the dragon's, a black robe wrapped tightly around the person's form. Seto stiffened as he found himself looking at a man nearly identical to himself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Seithe Kafit, Loyein's second-in command, was given the privilege of controlling this creature, in exchange for binding his life to its. He was an excellent master; the Alabaster Dragon very soon became a feared and legendary threat to the Egyptians."

The Blue-Eyes wheeled suddenly, Kafit directing it, and looped over what appeared to be a large city, formed of clay buildings. Yugi could make out shadowy figures running outside, pointing to it. Their eyes and mouths were opened wide.

"Shem! Come here - we have to run - come away from the open space!" an echoing voice cried, seeming to come from one of the blurry women. She ran up to snatch at a small boy's hand, dragging him out of view.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Shadowwalker's voice turned sharp and cutting, pushing hard against the words, hard enough to break them. "The pharaoh who reigned at the start of the war died, and his son took his place."

Quite suddenly, the pictures in the fire blanked out, and an image of Yami took their place. Yugi started, surprised. Solomon glanced down at him and squeezed his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"N - nothing." Yugi wanted to hear what Shadowwalker was saying.

"He managed well, much better than his father had. The war was drawing to a close when…." Shadowwalker trailed off for a moment. "When the gods abandoned Egypt. In the final hour, the battle which destiny called for, the Egyptians were matched and overcome with the full strength of Loyein's army…."

The fire twisted in on itself, spitting sparks and gray smoke, then blossomed outward, licking at peoples' ankles and scorching the ends of hair. Smoke got into Yugi's eyes, stinging his throat. He rubbed at them hard, and when he could see again, almost wished he couldn't.

The fire was now showing scenes from the last battle. It was afternoon, the sun turning everything gold and red. Sand was clouding the figures, moving in snakelike patterns, metal ringing on metal. A swish of dust rose as the Blue-Eyes landed with a jarring thump. The fighters rocked. A burst of lightning swept over the ground; people dropped where they stood.

Right in the middle of the battle, looking like a tangled knot of arms and legs and swinging iron, Yugi looked around and spotted his dark side. Yami's sword seemed to be too long for him, and there was blood running down the side of his face. The cold metal flashed in the sun as it sliced downward, cleaving someone's arm clean off their shoulder.

Bright light drowned the image out; Yugi heard people hitting the sand. When the spots faded out of his eyes, he found himself standing up, almost trying to run over to the battlefield. He caught himself about to yell for Yami and swallowed it.

Solomon grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back to the ground. He felt slightly calmer there. This was just a story, that was all… a true story, but there was nothing he could do to change it….

"It shouldn't have happened!" Shadowwalker hissed, his blank eyes lighting up painfully. 'They didn't have to die!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Pictures danced again. Kafit had dismounted, and the sun was setting. There was still fighting going on, but it was desperate, with no real doubt to the fact that the Yashamaat had won.

Kafit walked slowly around the red-smeared sand, eyes traveling at a deliberately slow pace over the fallen men. His hands were folded behind his back. He was careful not to step on any bodies.

Something moved. Kafit swung around immediately to face it, his sword drawn in his hand. Yami shoved a man off of him, standing unsteadily. He looked like should have been dead. One arm hung limp; he was favoring a leg; the trickle of blood had turned to a river; a burn was thrown across one side of his body.

Kafit twitched, and the controlled mask fell away. But Yami was the first to move, ducking down and swinging for Kafit's waist. The other man stepped back to parry it, suddenly beginning to smile; the dragon raised its head and whined eagerly. Heads turned.

But Yami was hurt and dizzy. His sword was knocked away soon enough.

Yugi flinched and his hands shot up to cover his eyes; but when he didn't hear anyone screaming, he opened his fingers. Kafit had his sword pointed directly at Yami's heaving chest. He was grinning and twisting the blade slowly, so that it cut gradually through the cloth armor. The other members of the Cult began to form an excited circle around them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"The Pharaoh should not have had to die," Shadowwalker said, this time his voice heavy and tired. "He was a child."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

One of the men, taller than the others and broader in the shoulders, seemed to stiffen the closer Kafit's sword came to Yami's skin. His hood was thrown back; long, coarse black hair was tied away from his face, and emerald-colored swirls tattooed his dark countenance.

Kafit noticed him, and his smile broadened. He jerked his head toward the man – "Loyein," explained Shadowwalker – and said something, his voice faded and slurred through the fire.

But Yugi could get the general gist of it. "This is now God." Kafit pushed slightly harder at the sword. "So, bow."

Yami's eyes flashed and he didn't move.

Kafit's mouth turned into a thin line. "I gave you an order. Kneel. _Now_."

Loyein's dark-green eyes didn't waver. Neither did Yami. The setting sun cast purple shadows over the peoples' faces.

Kafit's hand snapped out and snatched the chain Yami wore around his neck, which held the Millennium Item. He pulled on it, bringing Yami's face closer to his own. Kafit was taller. Yami had to stand on tiptoes just to stay on the ground. "I said that this man is God. What is it that's not getting through to you?" He drew back his sword. "He is Adome Loyein of Syria! If I have to cut off your legs for you to kneel, I will! He is your king!"

Yami snapped. Kafit was thrown backwards as the king tackled him, landing in a shower of sand. Loyein's eyes flashed jade and he took a step forward, but by then the line of black-robed men had broken into a flood. Men surrounded the pair. Hands darted down. The two men were separated, Kafit, Yugi noted in satisfaction, with his nose bleeding.

Yami didn't scream or cry or anything - just tried to whack whoever was holding him down. Yugi bit his lip so hard that blood trickled over his chin.

Loyein's eyes had dulled back into their normal dark green. He swept the hood back off his face, letting the sun pool into a red shine on his cheekbones, the blue-black streaks contrasting sharply with the weary sunshine. Almost smiling, he reached for the sword belted at his waist….

…And Kafit jumped, shouting, into the middle of the group. The younger man's sword flashed down again and again and again, coming up smeared a bit more crimson each time. "You insolent - I am the high priest! You can't do that to me! I -"

Loyein bellowed something and hit Kafit as hard as he could in the temple. The brown-haired man dropped like a rock, his eyes still open. He sprawled on the sand. The sword dug itself into the ground and stayed upright, quivering.

Loyein glared down at the former king, who was also lying on the earth, also unmoving, also staring wide-eyed at the empty sky - he seemed much too small when he was like that…. The Cult-Leader's eyes flared bright again and he snapped an order to the person standing next to him.

The young man held back, growling angrily at Loyein, but Yugi could see him shaking. Another member of the Cult pushed him forward, and the hood fell back. Silvery-white hair gleamed in the last of the light.

Ryou looked rather sick - his face was pale and his eyes seemed too big - but he didn't wait for any more instructions; he knelt down and pulled the gold talisman off of Yami's chain. His hands were trembling. He hung the little pyramid from the rope around his waist and stood up. He turned around to face Loyein, took a mouthful of air, and said dryly, "Congratulations. You just had a little child-king killed - don't you feel wonderful?"

The green-eyed man's arm darted out and swung, flooring Ryou instantly, and then the rest of the Cult turned around and left the three of them lying there: Kafit and Yami, who were dead; and Ryou, who wished he was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"And that was how the pharaoh of Egypt died."

Yugi jumped, not expecting Shadowwalker to speak. He had been leaning forward through the entire thing, the images now blanking out into white flames again. He found himself with his hands locked together in front of him, right where the Puzzle would have been hanging if he hadn't taken it off. His face was wet.

Seto was silent for a moment, then spoke up, "Did that really happen?"

Shadowwalker tried to summon a glare, failed, and sighed heavily. "Of course it happened, Seto. I never lie in any of my stories. Just watch. You," he exclaimed suddenly, turning his empty face toward Yugi, "this hurts you?"

"Y - Yes," Yugi said, unhooking his hands from each other.

"Why?"

"I… um… well, the people in there… remind me of people I know," he finished lamely. "That's it."

Shadowwalker gazed sadly at him. "That's all?"

"Yes, that's all," he lied, and looked down.

"All right," Shadowwalker said after a moment. "Shall I continue?" He didn't wait for an answer, just flipped his hands again and the fire swirled. The young version of Shadowwalker returned. Yugi scooted backwards until his back came into contact with Solomon.

"Loyein was insane, but by no means a fool. He wanted power, power and revenge. He was willing to do nearly anything for disciples, for people to follow him." It was suddenly as if the man were breathing down everyone's necks: "He had ways to make people sell their souls to him."

The fire flickered. This time, a room came into focus: a large, high-ceilinged room made of marble. It would have been grand, but chunks of the roof were knocked out, flooding the place with moonlight. The light illuminated broken statues, overturned tables, smashed altars, rubble everywhere.

One space was clear, almost directly in the middle of the room. Moonlight poured onto it like a liquid, turning everything to silver and pearl. In the center of the clear patch there were two people, blurry and out of focus. Seto squinted.

Shadowwalker smiled grimly and flicked a finger. The images cleared, revealing themselves, and everyone drew back hastily.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The two people looked very similar: almost-white hair, dark eyes. They seemed tiny in the immense room. The larger, stronger of the two was holding the other up, but they both looked like they had been using red paint. Buckets of it.

Ryou wasn't saying anything. He was on his knees, completely silent, his arm around Bakura's shoulders, looking at his little brother's face. Bakura was staring glassily at the ceiling, eyes wide open. Too wide. Too glazed. The face too pale.

Ryou slowly moved one hand, pulling the cloth away from an object that was - _there_. In the littler one's chest. It was made from wood, one end of it snapped and splintery. Ryou tightened his hand around it and yanked. It pulled away cloth and skin. Bakura didn't even move.

Ryou rolled the shaft in his fingers, staring at it, shifting from the piece of wood and stone to his brother's face; rolling faster and faster the harder he tried to suppress the thoughts building. _He can't be d - no. No, he's not. He can't be, he's the only - my only - my life - my little brother, he can't be dead, he CAN'T-_

A single voice floated from the back of the room. "Are you going to get up?" 

Ryou twisted around, still supporting the limp back and shoulders, still clutching the broken shaft. Loyein stood at the temple entrance, impassive but for the eyes. His hair had come loose from its tie and fell tangled down his back.

"Did you…." Ryou's thoughts clicked and he jumped up. Bakura slid to the floor. "_Did you do this?_" The young man's voice rose to a scream. "_Did_ you?! TELL ME!"

He was suddenly in front of Loyein, grabbing him by the cloak, fists tight, eyes much too wide and wild. He pulled the taller man down to his level. "_Did you kill my brother?!_"

Loyein sighed and stared heavenward. "Why are you asking me when you are the one holding the weapon, Tlanra?"

"I -" Ryou looked blankly at the shaft. "I - I didn't -" He glared up glassily, then seemed to reassure himself by screaming, "I WOULN'T! He was my brother! He was - the only thing you didn't take away!"

Loyein flashed a crooked smile. "Perhaps you weren't quite yourself."

"I -" Ryou stumbled again, looking down at the blood all over him, fresh and soaking to the skin. He looked at the shaft and the stone head, then at Bakura.

"Could you?" Loyein said softly, almost purring. "Could you have killed him?"

"I didn't…." Ryou started, but trailed off. His arm dropped to his side as he stared up, speechless. "…I don't remember…."

"Of course not." Loyein put one hand on the smaller man's shoulder and guided him over to Bakura. Pressing down on Ryou's shoulders to make him kneel, he took the suddenly motionless hand and moved it back and forth, to the cut in the chest and back again. "See… see how nothing else killed him… the weapon you are holding, yourself… why are you accusing me, when you are the one with the arrow?"

Ryou said nothing.

"Does it hurt, knowing that I am no guiltier than you?" Loyein reached around and traced one finger down Ryou's back, seeming to follow some sort of guideline through the folds of cloth. There was no response; Ryou's hand just tightened around the arrow's head, drawing blood from the palm. Noises came from his throat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the firelight, Shadowwalker stood up, gesturing. "I told you. Loyein's no one's fool. It's difficult for him to control minds when the victim struggles, so -" he shrugged, nervously pulling the blindfold higher up his face, "- he has them surrender willingly."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Loyein's image in the fire looked disturbingly happy as he clapped Ryou on the shoulder and stood up, walking towards the hole - formerly the door - in the wall. "Think about it."

"Wait." Ryou methodically rolled the shaft up and down his fingers. "I… killed him?"

"Yes."

"And I wanted to?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

A flicker of life appeared - "I don't know…." - and was swallowed. "I might have wanted to."

Loyein didn't proceed any further. "It hurts, doesn't it? Should I help?"

"You'll take me over." A statement, not a question.

"Perhaps." Loyein's voice was bored, but his face held an expression of eagerness and hunger, and his fist was gripping the neck of his cloak too tightly. "But really - _child_ -" emphasizing the word, "would you rather continue as you are… an evil creature, so disillusioned, so susceptible, that you would kill the one person who trusted in you?"

Ryou winced and didn't get up from his knees. The younger brother stared unseeing at the sky. The narrow gold circle gleamed at Ryou's chest. His arms didn't seem to have any strength.

"…Okay."

Loyein grinned and swung around, pulling a thick wand from inside of his sleeve. The images became blurry, fading out, as the shadows and the stark white of the temple mixed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Shadowwalker was breathing hard, trying to keep the images alive. He reached out to the fire, stretching. He sat down suddenly, breaking the image. He seemed to be exhausted from producing the story. Clapping his hands once, he sighed as the flames dwindled down to their normal, red-and-gold flickers. He leaned his head back against his stone seat, squirming a little. Once again an old man.

Seto was the first to speak. "…Shadowwalker, that was incredible!" he said, jumping up. Yugi, who'd been leaning on his arm, lost his balance. Seto looked wayyyyy too excited. "You can do magic? Like that? Make mirages and things, how'd you learn to do that?"

Yugi resisted the urge to kick him. Those people weren't characters some old man made up for fun, they had been real! And he knew them!

"What happened next? Did he let himself be taken over?"

Shadowwalker flinched, hesitating, then said carefully, "Yes. In short, the boy died."

"Who was his brother?"

Shadowwalker didn't answer. Yugi felt sympathetic all of a sudden, and tugged on Seto's sleeve. "C'mon Seto, he doesn't want to talk."

"Hang on - okay, no brother questions. What'd those gold things have to do with it? What do they do? That's why those people were killed, right? That first one."

'The first one' had been Yami.

"Those 'gold things' were the Millennium Items," Shadowwalker said. "Loyein found all of them after that one battle."

"You said there were seven."

"Only one was left after that."

"So he got them."

Shadowwalker wriggled uncomfortably, obviously unused to questions. "Yes… he hunted down the final Holder and stole his Item." He traced one finger across his scarred face. "Seto, stop now."

This time another person spoke up. "But why did you show us that story? It doesn't seem to be… significant."

"It IS!" Shadowwalker struggled to sit up. "It's important because - you don't know - none of you -" He got up all the way, panting from exertion. "Loyein - that mad, sadistic - HE became our KING, you foolish people! And right now he has three children with him doing gods-know-what to them!" He glared at Seto, who sat down with a thump and a pale face. "I showed you what happened to Ryou to get through to you what kind of power he has."

"Well, you didn't really show us -" someone said timidly.

Shadowwalker interrupted them. "That young man - you know who he is." He laughed shortly, which then turned to a cough. "Silver-Hair? Cres-Exe?"

Solomon stared, gripping Yugi's shoulder painfully hard. "That boy who was defying him? Who killed his brother?" Shadowwalker smirked. "_He_ became the High Priest of Yash?"

Yugi blinked. He couldn't imagine Yami Bakura - Ryou - being a priest of anything. And given his obvious opposition to Loyein, especially not a priest for _him_.

"Who's Cres-Exe?" he asked Solomon, stumbling over the strange syllables. "Ryou's a priest? But how's he still alive? How's Loyein still alive?" Solomon didn't answer. "What happened to my friends?"

Nobody answered. A woman stood up and brushed sand off her clothes. A kid threw earth on the fire to put it out. The inhabitants of the camp stretched, helped Shadowwalker to his feet, straggled back to their own tents. There was no talking.

"Hey!" Yugi said. "Isn't anybody gonna say something?"

Within a minute, the fire was dead and he was alone, staring into the blackness.

The air was cold, the sky clearer than he'd seen before. Stars were strewn across it, dotting the velvety expanse with light. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, picturing the faces of the people he'd seen - too familiar, too far away. Blood. _I hate blood_, he reflected.

Yugi shuddered again, turned around, and walked hastily back to his own tent. The fur fell heavily over him, warmth spreading. Zanebia muttered in her sleep and rolled over, draping one arm over the ground and grabbing a fistful of his hair.

He eyed the Millennium Puzzle, wondered idly whether this meant there were two of them now – one with Loyein, one with him. The gold eye dared him to pick it up.

He reached for it, then stopped dead, visualizing it hanging around Yami's neck, in Ryou's fingers, swinging from Loyein's hand. _The king_. He shook his head and drew his arm back in, turning to look at the cloth wall of the tent instead.

* * *

Oooh, I'm a bad person... I killed Yami, Kafit and Bakura all in the same chapter. Bad Yutaan. ::sob:: But it had to be done. Don't worry, time-travel is a wonderfully convenient invention. Although so complicated to pull off correctly, eh, Yugi:: That's a very badly-disguised spoiler, by the way. Hee.::

Oh, my friend asked me what "Tlanra" meant. Yes, it's a title from the Yashamaat's language, but its translation is a secret, since giving it away would be a big plot point. Sooo, gomen! We'll just have to find out what Ryou's title means later...

The next chapter, I've been told, is the weirdest in the story. It's also long... so expect another update in two weeks. Once-a-week updates just don't seem to be working out... ::sigh:: Anyways, so please check back soon, and leave a review!


	11. Chapter 10: Uncertainties

A/N: I believe this is officially the longest chapter in the story.

This is also not very well-written; I'll explain what I can in the A/N at the end, but I can't tell too much or I'd give away several plot points... A lot of the stuff in here depends entirely on information that hasn't been revealed yet, or else it doesn't make sense... Well, it makes sense to me, but that's it. ::sweatdrop:: I only know what's going on because I'm the author. That's a bad sign.

But at any rate, since you've gotten this far, I suppose you may as well read this monster-chapter as well. I'll clarify stuff at the end of the chapter!

Thank you to dragonlady222 and Protector of the Nameless!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, there'd be YAOI. (Even though there's none in this fic.)

* * *

Chapter Nine: Uncertainties 

Yugi couldn't breathe. Something hard and rough was clamped over his mouth and nose, cutting off air. His arms were twisted behind his back. Somebody heavier than him had all their weight pressed onto his shoulders and ribs, pinning him like a rock.

_I can't move!_ He jerked as hard as he could, trying to at least move the person a little, but they didn't budge. He started to fight for air.

"Shh Yugi. Shut up!" a voice hissed. The hand moved from his nose so he could breathe, but stayed over his mouth. Seto peered down at him. "Please, be quiet. If you don't we're all gonna be hanged."

"Mmf?!"

Seto ground the heel of his hand down. "Quiet, I said! There's soldiers here. Ams, Yashsamaat men. They're looking for you."

Yugi's eyes widened. "Kmt mbff?"

"Shh!" Seto released Yugi's head but kept a grip on his arms. He leaned forward slightly, getting a view through the tent flap. Yugi had to lean forward too or get his arms wrenched off.

There were several men on horseback in the camp. They looked similar to the Cult-members he'd seen before in Egypt, except that their robes were decked out with silver chains and intricate designs of green on black. Most of them wore their hoods and face-coverings up, except for the smallest of them. He seemed to be the leader; he was leaning down from his mount, talking to Solomon.

Yugi looked steadily at the spiky gold hair falling to the young man's shoulders. "That's Marik Ishtar!"

"Quiet, I said!" Seto whispered. "Yes, that's right - Ishtar. He commands all of the troops." he let go of Yugi completely. "Stay here for a sec. I'm going to try to hear what they want." He crawled silently out of the tent.

Yugi shrank back a little, listening to the thumping in his ears. Zanebia was gone - probably up hours before - so he was alone in the tent.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Seto slid on his stomach along the sand, not wanting to be seen before he was ready. If he had to get back to Yugi quickly, he didn't want people watching him. He pulled himself into the shadow of one of the biggest tents, close to the semicircle of riders. He could hear them talking.

"…said that there was another one of them. You're the closest camp to where they were found, so we're checking."

"That's fine, Master Isht-"

"I didn't ask if it was all right with you." There was a jingle of thin chains as Marik jerked his head. "Get everyone out of those tents. Line them up. If there's an outsider, I need to find him."

Seto leaned carefully around the side of the tent. He could see two horses standing slightly apart from the others, with two or three riders on them. There was only one Cult-member, holding the reigns, but sitting on the mounts' backs were three people; pale-skinned and dressed strangely. They matched the descriptions Yugi had given him.

"Go on, call them out!" Ishtar told Solomon, lifting one hand.

"All right, all right!" Solomon turned around and walked slowly to each of the separate tents, sticking his head inside and rousing the workers. When he passed by Seto, he glanced at him and muttered, "I'm not going to show Yugi. Whatever you do, don't mention him, understand?" Seto nodded. He wasn't stupid.

Solomon didn't pause by Yugi's tent, just hissed, "For Aat's sake, _stay in there_," and kept walking.

Everyone assembled into a line. Yugi peered out and could see Shadowwalker's wrapped head bobbing, and Zanebia's long hair, and - _there they were!_

Tea, Joey and Tristan were sitting on horses. They were tied at the wrists. He could see a bruise formed on the side of Joey's face, and Tea was dead white and rigid, but they were okay! They were here!

He scooted backwards, trying not to move the sides of the tent too much, and held his breath. His Item lay gleaming at the other end of the blanket, but he didn't dare move to get it. He'd have to wait. _Will Seto be able to help my friends? _he wondered.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ishtar scanned the fifty-something people standing before him. "Is this all?" he asked Solomon. The old man looked up at him, seemingly miniscule.

"Yes, sir. You know, we're a small camp -" 

"Shut up, I know." Marik looked them over again. All of them were sun-browned and weathered, and all of them were secretly glaring at him from slitted eyes. None of them could be related to those soft-skinned foreigners, but to _verson_ with it, he'd give it a shot. Aat was commanding him to. He turned his horse to face them.

"All right, point him out." He smiled inwardly, remembering when he'd first brought them in front of his master. They'd been frightened and practically _spewing_ information. The fourth one of them had come up in the conversation, and after just a little persuasion, they had described him. And they had used the specific words 'Millennium Item.' And Master had been extremely interested.

Tristan was the first to speak. "He's not here." The other two immediately nodded their consent.

Marik scowled, eyed Shadowwalker suspiciously for a moment, then turned and said to his troops, "Check all of the people." Addressing Solomon, he said, "Where's that leader-in-training you have? Set or something."

Solomon jumped forward, saying, "My lord, we should really be beginning work if we are to make progress today…." Marik rolled his eyes and brushed him off, dismounted, and began pacing up and down the line of people, looking for someone with soft skin, light hair, strange clothing. The other men joined him, hustling the foreigners off their horses.

No one noticed as one of the men backed slowly away, his steps shuffling, melting into the mass of tents. The man's hood was up, obscuring everything on his head save the dark eyes, but he wore a talisman around his neck, something that made him different from the other Cult-members.

He was wearing the Millennium Ring.

Cres-Exe, the priest of Loyein, watched from behind one of the tents for a few moments, paying careful attention to each of the persons lined up. He studied Shadow-walker closely for almost a full minute before he suddenly grinned and whispered, "So, that's where you've been hiding, you _lippe_." Smiling with satisfaction, he continued his search.

The Ring suddenly vibrated against his chest, causing the fabric over it to tremble. He froze and pushed his hood back off his face to see better, revealing white hair, hacked short, and the whipped ankh - the sign of the Yashamaat - tattooed onto his forehead.

The Ring became warm against his skin, growing hotter and hotter as he turned in a methodical circle. Satisfied, he walked quietly toward the one of the smallest structures, then circled around it, approaching it from the back. He almost laughed. The person inside was silhouetted against the approaching sunlight, making it ridiculously easy to see them. And judging from the fact that his Ring was burning a circle of blisters into his chest, the Item was indeed inside.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Seto glanced around nervously, trying to figure out what was wrong. He could sense someone was missing from the circle of Cult-members, but he had missed which one. Squinting, he counted them again - twenty-nine - there had been thirty to start with. He narrowed his eyes to concentrate. Ishtar was still there, as was the man who'd been holding the reigns. Most men were still examining the faces of the workers. Some were keeping a grip on those three kids.

Shadowwalker turned slightly, staring right at Seto's face. He felt goosebumps rise up along his skin. The old man was trying to tell him something, wasn't he?

Shadowwalker drew a circle along his chest with a bony finger, still looking at Seto – even though the old man couldn't see him. Watching the circle trace itself over and over again, it clicked. Cres-Exe was missing. He could be anywhere.

Damn! Of all people, it couldn't make things more complicated than that priest. The young man had a sixth-sense, something that seemed to guide him to escaped workers and rebels like a beacon. Some said he was psychic. Others said he wasn't human. That went without saying - all the Cult seemed to be practically immortal. But Cres-Exe was heavily favored by the king - totally obedient, totally under control. It was hard to believe he'd once been that rebellious white-haired boy in Shadowwalker's story.

Seto turned around again, getting a good view of the tent Yugi was hiding in. He felt air stick in his throat.

Cres-Exe was definitely there. He was kneeling behind the tent, reaching for the flap. Seto caught the full glare of the sun bouncing off the priest's white hair in the eyes.

-

Yugi heard a rustling sound, and, before he could turn around, something sharp pressed itself to the side of his head. "Do you want to live?" The knife's point dug a little deeper, making Yugi grit his teeth together. "Then don't. Move." The voice was familiar.

"Ryou?" he asked uncertainly.

The knife disappeared for a moment, then the handle suddenly hit hard him on the side of the head. "Shut up." The voice had changed to a raspy, low sound. Was that really Ryou talking?

A hand pushed him forward by the small of his back. His hands hit the furs spread on the ground. "Move." Someone else edged inside the tent with him, keeping the knife right by Yugi's head. Yugi looked up at him, willing himself not to start crying - jeez, not now - and squinting. Was it Ryou? The light hair was the same, the face was the same shape, but his eyes were a different color. They were dark green.

Yugi didn't get chance to figure that out before the handle hit him again, this time on the shoulder. "Forward more. Go." The man's mouth was moving, forming the words, but the quality remained different. Yugi stared up at him for a moment, then shifted his eyes to the Puzzle lying unprotected on the floor. Ryou - Cres-Exe? - snatched it and stowed it in the folds of his robe.

The blade poked his cheek. "What's your name, kid?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Seto rubbed his eyes furiously, scrubbing away the light and blindness. When he got his sight back, Cres-Exe was gone. Inside the tent, probably. He opened his mouth to yell for Solomon or Zanebia or SOMEbody, but swallowed it immediately. Right, like the thirty Cult-members would just leave him alone. He pulled his sharpened throwing-stick from underneath his belt and started across to the tent on his hands and knees.

_At least I have the element of surprise,_ he thought, and grabbed the tent flap, yanking it open. "Get out of there, you -" He broke off.

Cres-Exe was sitting inside, perfectly comfortable, with one arm around Yugi. He was holding a bow awkwardly with both hands, but he was grinning down the arrow's shaft at Seto. "Hello. Just keep coming in, kid."

Seto swallowed hard against the curse in his throat and edged inside. The bow hit him over the head, cracking itself from the impact. He noiselessly crashed to the ground.

Yugi whimpered. "D - don't hurt him!"

"Oh, I won't." Non-Ryou pulled the flap open again, dragging Yugi forward, and yelled, "Ishtar!"

Marik whirled and then smiled. "Good, Exe." He motioned to his men. "Come on, we're done."

"Wha -?" Tea stammered, then gasped when Cres-Exe climbed upright with his catch. "Yugi!"

"Where?" Joey and Tristan spouted at the same time. Joey twisted around. "Yugi! You okay?"

Solomon winced. If they had kept quiet, he might have bluffed everything off.

Cres-Exe glanced down and then yanked on Seto's arm. The brown-haired boy slid out onto the sand. He looked up at Solomon and said, "Oh yes, everyone's lined up, are they?"

"Put them down!" Zanebia snapped huffily.

Cres-Exe dropped Yugi but kept a hold on his wrist. "Come on."

"Was there a Millennium Item?" Marik asked him, coming over and propping Seto against one of the tents.

Cres-Exe glanced at him. "…No."

Yugi's head snapped up. _No? But Ryou has it in his cloak_….

Marik obviously didn't believe him either. "No?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. They were green too, Yugi noted. "Those three -" he jerked his gold head towards Yugi's friends, "- said he does."

"Well, it's not there. Come on already, are we going back or not?" Cres-Exe snapped. He yanked a length of rope from his horse's saddlebag and started winding it around Yugi's arms. Even when the kid twisted, Cres-Exe just clamped his arms to his back and kept knotting.

"Stop that!" Tristan yelled at him. "You're gonna break his arm!"

"That's his problem."

"Exe!" Marik grabbed his shoulder. "I _know_ that it was in there. What did you do with it?"

Solomon shuffled forward slightly. Marik's head snapped toward him. "You stay where you are!"

"With all respect, sir," he tried to lie convincingly, "that's my grandson."

Yugi stared at him. _Grandpa remembers me! _he thought. _Wait, Grandpa remembers me?_

"He was transferred from another camp, y'see."

…He didn't remember Yugi. He was just trying to bail him out.

Yugi looked up at Joey, specifically at the bruise on his cheekbone. It was roughly the size of a hand, and he could see shallow scratches where the fingernails had scraped. He swallowed. He was never good at dealing with pain….

-

Cres-Exe fumbled with the rope. A familiar pounding was entering his head - colors began to pulse, dimming and then brightening with every heartbeat. He first tried to ignore it, like usual, but it never worked. The cream-colored sand beneath his feet turned blood red, then bright green; the sky was suddenly pure white.

You lied… didn't you? 

Cres-Exe finished the knot and picked up the small boy, who kicked him. He hadn't been expecting that. He nearly doubled over, but managed to shove him up in front of the girl.

Are you waking up yet? He didn't know this voice. But who other than Master could enter someone's mind like this?... 

Cres-Exe shook his head hard and tried to concentrate on what Ishtar was saying to him. He could see the shorter man gesticulating, scowling at him, but all he could hear was a strange, whistling _thump-thump _in his ears. Blood rushing?

A new voice in his head now, one familiar and welcome. _Don't listen, Exe. Only listen to me. I am God, remember._

_Yes, Master_, he said to himself.

_Ryou, wake up! I know you can hear me! It's me_….

He flinched and then eyed Shadowwalker.

_Exe?_ his master called. Loyein's voice was low and dangerous. _You have the Item, don't you?_

_Yes._

_Who is that old man?_

_I don't know… but he's… he's _talking_ to me. Master, help me!_

There was a brief wash of emptiness, and then Cres-Exe felt his eyes open. The pounding stopped. He knew this feeling of weightlessness: Master was using his body, commanding it - a welcome rest from thought and movement - because thoughts led back to memory, and memory led to - no.

Marik cocked his head. Cres-Exe's eyes had suddenly turned so dark green, they were almost black; a ruby-colored ring had formed around the irises. Hastily, he swallowed his astonishment and bowed. "My Lord."

_My Lord?_ thought Solomon, edging over toward Seto, who was stirring. _Oh… Loyein, the Yash. He's inside Cres-Exe._ His hand mechanically shook Seto's shoulder. _Poor crazy bastard. _

Ryou – Cres-Exe – looked different to Yugi. Taller, with a self-confident smirk. He sauntered up to Shadowwalker. The people, antsy already, practically jumped out of the way.

Cres-Exe was small. He had to look up to meet Shadowwalker's covered eyes. "Take that off," he ordered. Everyone stared at him. What was he, nuts? Shadowwalker didn't respond. "Go on, do it!"

The old man slowly reached up and undid the bandana. The length of white cloth fluttered to the ground, where Cres-Exe stepped on it. He cocked his head in speculation and glowered up. Without asking, he reached up and traced his fingernails over the pale scar slashed across the wrinkled face, over the blank eyes. He grinned.

"So here you are, then." He glanced down, the green eyes laughing. He reached for the tunic's fastenings.

Shadowwalker grabbed his wrist. "Stop it, Ryou."

Cres-Exe flinched and snapped his head up. For a second, his eyes changed to a deep mahogany - then swirled back into green oblivion. "Don't call him that!" he hissed, snatching his hand back. "And don't touch me! This is my disciple!"

"Loyein, he's not yours."

"You will call me Aat! Yashamaat! Stupid mage," he growled, and yanked the shirt open.

Tea yelped. Burned into the brown skin of Shadowwalker's chest was the symbol of an ankh - like a cross, with a loop crowning it instead of a line. Badly healed scars marred the pale lines that formed it, old cuts. One was circular, appearing in the exact center of the ankh's loop.

Cres-Exe nodded once and turned away. "Take him too."

"What?" Solomon cried. "Why?"

"Master?" Marik asked cautiously.

"He's the mage. The Holder that ran away. He's Shadi."

Shadowwalker glanced from side to side, the blank veil sliding away from his eyes. They turned bright, slate-blue. Yugi stared at him.

"Shadi?" he called. The horse under him pawed the sand. Tea's chest swelled as she took in air. Shadowwalker looked up at him as black-robed men circled around him, now being much more cautious. "Shadi! You're - I mean - you're not dead! How come you aren't dead, you're 3,000 -"

The green in Cres-Exe's eyes intensified. "Shut up. He's not dead because he sold his soul to the gods. I, at least, _earned_ immortality."

"Yes, by killing the Holders and using the Items!" Shadowwalker - Shadi? - said to him, wrenching his arms out of the Cult-members' grasp.

Cres-Exe muttered for a moment, then said, "That wasn't my original plan." He swung himself up onto his horse, which, startled, stumbled backwards and whinnied. The dark emerald eyes fixated themselves on Yugi. "But this time… I'm going to get it right." He reached inside his robes and pulled the Puzzle out of them, fastening it next to the Ring around his neck. "I'll have her back." Talking to the other members of the Yashamaat, he said, "Come on already, get him tied up and let's go!"

"What the hell are you all talking about?" Joey snapped.

Cres-Exe didn't bother to turn, but said impatiently, "Three thousand years ago, when I first gained control, I still needed one of the Millennium Items. He," he gestured to Shadowwalker, "had it. We tracked him for months until we caught him. I remember how an arrow hit him dead-center in the chest, right in the circle of the Millennium Ankh. And how one of my men cut him across the eyes with a spear."

One of the men reached for Shadowwalker's arm. He pulled away, and in that second-long pause, Zanebia decided to take out the Cult. She pulled back her working tool and swung as hard as she could, swiping the man's legs out from underneath him and laying him out flat. "You leave him alone, ya big meanie!"

"Zan-!" Shadowwalker yelped, then dove onto the man and wrestled him off of Zanebia. Seto jerked awake and knocked Solomon's hand away.

"Shadowwalker!"

For some reason, now everybody was freaking out. Workers were tackling Yashamaat men, and Yashamaats were whacking workers with sticks, and nobody noticed when Yugi's horse got kicked and started galloping away.

Well, except the riders.

"STOP THIS THING! I'M FALLING OFF!"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW!"

"WELL FIGURE IT -" Tea didn't finish her sentence; somebody had noticed them and ridden after, grabbing her by the hair and jerking both of them backwards off the horse. Yugi landed flat on his back and dazedly watched it race off upside-down.

Marik leaned over, blotting out the sun, and glared down at them. "You morons. Why can't I at least capture halfway intelligent people, then I might actually get _paid_ to round them up." He hoisted Tea to her feet by the neck of her school uniform. She squeaked.

Yugi glared at him from his undignified spot on the ground. "Don't touch her!"

Marik peered down at him. "Pardon?" he said sarcastically.

Yugi struggled to get up to his knees; his head had hit the ground first and things were spinning. Unfocused, he scowled at a spot several inches to Marik's left. He found himself saying automatically, "If you hurt Tea, I'll have Yami kick your ass!"

Instead of cracking up, or rolling his eyes or saying "I'd like to see him try" or something equally brilliant, Marik just stood there for a minute, one hand still on Tea's neck, the rest of him unmoving. Then he suddenly unclenched his fist. Tea stumbled. "Ow!"

Marik's green eyes were glassy, thoughtful for a moment, then his mind and body were in complete agreement: Yugi found himself dangling a good four feet off the ground, with his hair feeling like it was about to be yanked out of his head and Marik screaming, "CRES-EXE! GET OVER HERE _NOW!_"

"Ouch that hurts LEGGO!"

"How do you know that name?" the gold-haired person whispered fiercely.

Yugi felt his face turn bright red and tears spring to his eyes. Being held up by your hair wasn't exactly a picnic. "LET GO OF MY HEAD RIGHT NOW!" he yelled as loud as he could. People in the camp, fifty feet away, turned around.

Shadowwalker took the opportunity to dive and catch Cres-Exe at the knees. The priest pitched forward, taken by surprise, and somehow managed to catch Seto's heel in the forehead, stunning him.

Shadowwalker yanked the knife out of Cres's hand and had it to his throat in a second. "Listen to me!" he shouted. Everyone turned from Yugi to him, like a ping-pong match. ( Heh. Couldn't resist. I love ping-pong.) Cres-Exe's eyes dulled back to blank brown.

"Get back. All of you; I'm not playing!" Shadowwalker ordered. The no-longer-empty blue eyes darted from one black-robed man to the other. "I'll kill him. I will!"

Marik lowered Yugi back to the ground but didn't release him. The green in his eyes flared into a brighter shade as he considered the two men: one with his arms and legs and weapon locked around the other, the smaller one half-unconscious and trying to pry the much larger man off of him.

Cres-Exe had pluck, Seto noted, he had to give him that.

Shadowwalker sounded young again while he talked. "Ryou, unhook that Puzzle and put it on the ground." Cres-Exe didn't move. Shadowwalker shook him. "Do as I say."

"Don't call me that."

"Ryou, do as I -"

"Don't call me that!"

"Whatever, I don't care what I call you, Ryou, just -"

"_Shadi please, please don't call me Ryou!_"

"Shadi?" Solomon swung his head back and forth. "What are you talking about? Shadi was one of the people in Shadowwalker's last story…." He stared. "Shadowwalker? …That story was from 3,000 years ago…."

"Like Yami," Yugi added. Marik-Loyein twisted his hand to make him shut up. He didn't want to hear that name. Not now, not when he was so close to getting his wish….

"Can somebody tell me what in heck's going on?" Joey said.

"Hey, look Joey, that priest guy is Yami Bakura," Tristan observed. Somewhere far away, a fanficton author did a faceplant.

"Go on."

Everyone stared at Marik. He was standing differently now. Pale blue lines had begun to etch themselves onto his skin, and when the flickering sun hit him, you could see long dark hair, a gold circlet, jewels and indigo ink.

"Go on," Loyein repeated, using Marik's mouth. "I can always get another priest."

"Another priest," Shadowwalker panted, "not another Tlanra."

"I'm a what?" Cres-Exe ground out breathlessly, wrenching at the thin arm around his neck.

"Shut UP Cres!" Marik snarled. "And I don't need him anymore," he said to the formerly old man. "I have what I want. I don't need him. In fact, I'd be glad if you took him off my hands; he's a nuisance. He was a traitor before and he's still the same."

"Master, I was never -" Cres tried.

"I told you to shut up!" Loyein-Marik snapped. "Before you wind up like your brother!"

"Maste-" Cres-Exe didn't finish his sentence. His eyes suddenly expanded to glassy, opaque circles and he started to tremble. His brother? What brother? _NO!_ _Don't think about that. Don't remember it! _

Shadowwalker glanced down at the Millennium Items Ryou was holding. He figured that, without much handling, the protective spells wouldn't have worn off. He wouldn't be able to touch either of them without being burned.

He looked up again, slowly scanning the nonmoving people. He was starting to form a plan in his mind. He'd love to kill off Cres-Exe, but that might not be the best course… Considering how this timeline had turned out, he was hesitant to stay with it, but if he tried again things might turn out worse… Yet he might not have a choice.

This was the last chance. He could play things safe or risk a different timeline. If he could get some things to change, tweak some aspect of the course of events, then things might not turn out like this. Without Loyein controlling the world, naming it after his dead wife, making a mistake with the Items, being unable to bring her back to life – making himself immortal instead… without Ishizu and Bakura and Yami dying… maybe he could save Fatale after all.

He weighed the choices. The years in this form had made him weak, damaged his powers and twisted his self-awareness. He would only be able to send one other person back in time. Who would it be?

Shadowwalker himself, naturally, would go without question - the only thing that would happen to him was that he would become slightly younger; all memories would be intact. Fatale, obviously, would demand to come. Perhaps Malaise would be there. But which mortal?...

Cres-Exe was a warped version of Ryou, unstable. Shadowwalker didn't trust him anyway. Seto was likewise unsound - he might not survive the process. Someone who hadn't been changed with the course of time, and who knew enough about Khemet's inhabitants to make correct decisions….

_Mutou boy,_ rang a voice in Yugi's head.

GAUGH! What? Who - what - huh? 

_It's me. Shadowwalker. Shadi._

_Oh. Um…yes?_

_I need you to brace yourself. I am going to send you back in time, back to when you were before._

…_Oh God, again?! Listen - _

_Yes. I will tell you what to do when you are there; this is important. This place, these people… this is wrong. Things should not be this way. You have to help me fix it. I will try to make this last chance stable._

Yugi flinched. Loyein-Marik glared at him. _…Fix it? Help? …O - Okay… will this hurt?_

_Yes._

_I - don't know if I should do this!_

_You want to help Yami. Then be silent and let me concentrate! I'm going to push Exe away to distract them. When I do, dive to one side to make Ishtar let go of you._

…_But… all right._

Shadowwalker waited a moment, listening to Cres-Exe breathe and planning. Then he snatched the knife away and shoved the priest as hard as he could. In the moment of confusion, Yugi pulled to one side and sprang lightly towards Tea. Shadi swallowed air, closed his eyes, and -

* * *

And so ends Part One. 

And thus begins Part Two, in which we go back to ancient Egypt - FAR back - to explain the events that led up to the situation we saw in Chapters 3-6. Basically, it won't involve Yugi, Joey, Cres-Exe or the other "modern" people, but there will be a lot of Ryou, Bakura, Yami and Marik. And all the things that happened to them before the fnal battle against the Yashamaat.

ANYWAYS! Explanations:

1) **But they're 3,000 years old!** - The members of the Yashamaat, including Loyein, Marik Ishtar, and Ryou (now called Cres-Exe) all appear to be immortal. But apparently, that's not what Loyein originally intended to do when he took over Egypt.

2) **Cres-Exe **- Ryou, now that he agreed to be loyal to Loyein, is now called Cres-Exe ("Silver-Hair"). He's not exactly possessed, but under Loyein's power enough to not really remember hs past, though some things can trigger memories: for example, his own name. He currently uses the Millennium Ring to find things his Master has lost, like other Items.

3) **Green eyes** - possession. If a character's eyes have changed to green, or blue markings appear on their body, or sometimes other signs, that means that Loyein is projecting himself into his/her body. He can't do this unless the character has agreed to it, or is part of the Yashamaat. Marik and Ryou/Cres-Exe, for example, are almost constantly possessed, or at least are connected to and influenced by Loyein's mind.

4) **Shadi/Shadowwalker/???** - So, apparently, Shadowwalker is actually Shadi, the only Holder (of an Item) who managed to escape the final battle in Egypt. And he seems to have performed a spell or taken some measures to ensure a very, very, very long life. But he's made some references to Malaise(!) and Fatale (oooooh, who is THAT? 0.0), and seems to have the power to change/travel through time, which supposedly only Malaise has. So is he Shadi, or isn't he...?

I can only say this: he's Shadi... sort of.

::is shot::

5) "**How do you know that name?"** - the names of Yami, his father, various other figures and the Egyptian gods are forbidden in this crazy little future of Loyein's. The fact that Yugi knew Yami's name tipped off that something was greatly amiss.

6) **Protective spells** - In my mind, the Items probably have some sort of defenses against unworthy people picking them up and screwing with them. I figured that it'd be something cool, like burning anyone besides the one destined to have the Item. So, Shadowwalker can't just snatch 'em away from Cres-Exe.

...But then why can Cres-Exe handle them...?

Ahhhh, even if the writing sucks, I am proud of all the twists and turns in my little fic. And it will make sense eventually.

Love you all, thank you so much for reading this far! Please review!

Oh, and happy Valentine's Day.


End file.
